


What I Need

by Wrotten



Category: Chicago PD (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:41:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 75,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23886142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wrotten/pseuds/Wrotten
Summary: Hank Voight doesn't do this. He doesn't follow women out of a run down bar after nothing much more than a nod. But he needed an out, a way to stop thinking about a loss he still couldn't face.Lana Milani had moved across the country with the hopes of starting a new life. The secrets she left behind had her determined not to get too close to anyone she met in this new city. She was just looking for a distraction. She never even learned his name.But when their paths cross again unexpectedly, they soon learn that what they want, and what they need, wasn't something either of them was prepared for.Set after the start of season 4 of Chicago PD
Relationships: Hank Voight/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 52
Kudos: 145





	1. Stern

**Author's Note:**

> All rights and Chicago PD characters belong to the creators of Chicago PD.
> 
> This Au takes place shortly after Justin is killed. I actually just recently found this series and have not seen past the beginning of season 4, so as far as I know Erin and Jay are still together, Burgess and Rusik are broken up, and Mouse just said he was leaving. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

It smelled like stale beer and even staler dreams. Lana rolled a shoulder, trying to ease some of the tension that had built up during her 7 hour flight. New job, new town, but she would do the settling in later. Right now she had wanted the first dive bar she could find, and this fit the bill. She crossed to the bar, built into the back wall of an old laundromat. A couple change machines still stood in the corner, beside a payphone with a split wire and a missing phone. It was exactly the kind of place her mother taught her to never go. It was exactly the kind of place to take that edge off. 

  
She ordered a beer, claimed a stool between two fellow drinkers more interested in their cups than the air around them. Not the type to strike up a conversation, and she sipped her drink in silence. She grimaced a little setting the bottle down. It wasn't bad, it wasn't good either.

"I'll take another."   
The man on the stool beside her spoke, and Lana's head turned despite herself. It was a different kind of voice, rough in a way that sounded almost damaged and she found herself studying him.   
He looked stern. Close cut hair and an even jaw. He was older, probably had fifteen years on her but he looked fit, built in a way that suggested whatever his job was, it saw some action. He wasn't handsome at first glance. The dim lighting strained the air and he looked too sharp in the shadows.   
He glanced at her, that frank kind of look that so many people shied from. Sizing her up and questioning her stare all in one. He wasn't looking for company, and Lana's brow cocked as she took another swallow of her drink, gaze never leaving his. His lips moved, pursing a little like he was considering something, and Lana set her drink down with a smile.   
Now that, that is exactly what she needed to take that edge off.

  
They made it back to her place. He had accepted her invitation with a shrug that said what the hell did he have to lose. He didn't even touch her until the door swung closed behind them, and then he walked her back against it, hand settling beside her head on the plain wood frame, gaze asking one simple question, did she really want to do this? She had invited him back to her appartment and he was holding off? She didn't know if he was just a gentleman or out of practice. Maybe both, but she tugged against him impatiently. This was already taking longer than she wanted. 

It was all he needed. He pressed her hard and didn't stop until she was gasping. She got rough and he got rougher. That straining, bitter kind of desperation for distraction, exhaustion. She tasted it in him and she knew it well. 

He stopped kissing her. Once they hit the bed it was simple need and he met _every_ one. He didn't talk, and Lana held in every sound. It was a silent, intense battle that lasted until she had nothing left to give. 

She lay panting, mind finally empty for the first time in days. He didn't even pretend to stay. Stood with sweat dripping down his back, tugged his shirt over head.   
"There's water in the fridge." Lana offered, not bothering to dress as he finished pulling his shoes on. 

"Thanks," he spoke over his shoulder, that same rough voice that had caught her interest and Lana smiled alittle.  
He crossed to the kitchen on his way out the door. She heard the fridge open and close. She was surprised when he came back in.   
He offered her a water bottle and she took it with a wry laugh. He was part gentleman after all. He stood with his hands in his pockets, as if debating what to say, before he shrugged a little.   
"Have a good night."  
Lana tipped the bottle to him in response before chugging it down. He left without another word. 

She slept like she hadn't in ages. 

* * *

  
Voight didn't do this.

Didn't follow women out of a run down bar after nothing much more than a nod. He didn't bed them harder than he had any right to without ever knowing their name. But he was tired of caring. Her place was clean but empty. Boxes suggested she was either moving in or moving out. Her skin was soft and hot against his and he didn't have to guess what she wanted or be afraid to take what he needed.

Camille had never liked it rough. Said he worked too hard on the job, needed something soft when he came home.   
Well he didn't have anything soft anymore. And he needed an out. To forget for one blasted second that he had lost almost everything he ever cared about.   
He didn't have to think about the job. Justin. The body at the other end of that trigger that he saw every time he closed his eyes. He had thought liquor would drink those memories down. 

He should have known better. 

But for an hour he hadn't had to think of any of it.

He made it home and passed out on the couch. He kicked his shoes off but that was about it. His alarm was set for less than four hours. It was more sleep than he was got most nights anymore. 

* * *

  
Lana resisted the urge to smooth her shirt down again. First day on the job and she didn't want to clue anyone in that she was nervous. She was a professional. An asset. She could act like it.   
They gave her a name badge at the desk, waved her up the stairs to the office she would work out of. People passed but didn't pay her much mind. She returned the favor.   
She reached the top of the stairs and heads turned, a group of them looking at her with some mild surprise. 

"Can I help you?" One straightened from where he was leaning on his desk, file in his hand snapping closed as he crossed to her. He was cute, in a put together kind of way, and Lana extended a hand.  
"Lana Malina. I'm the new addition to your team." 

He shook her hand but his gaze skitted to the others as he did so. "...what new addition?"  
They look they passed around said they had no idea. 

"She's running tech." 

Lana's head snapped up at the voice, completely unmistakable.   
The man she had pulled into her bed not twelve hours before now stood in the doorway of the office at the back, regarding her with a completely impassive eye, and Lana swallowed. 

She hadn't been expecting this


	2. Closing

"Welcome to the team," he waved a hand at one of the older officers, a dark haired man reclined in a seat in the corner. "O, make the introductions." His gaze switched back to Lana, "then I'll see you in my office."  
He stepped back before she had a chance to react. Good thing too, Lana couldn't think of a single intelligible thing to say. 

Jay and Attwater welcomed her with a friendly kind of ease. Olinski did his part but seemed bemused more than anything. Anotinio and Erin were out on a call. She'd meet them later. She didn't stick around for much more conversation.   
She didn't know _what_ was going to be waiting for her in that office. 

She stepped in and let the door shut, back straight she faced the man behind the desk, wondering just how it was exactly that she had managed to find herself in this situation.  
He looked different here, settled back in his chair, eyes just a fraction warmer. They were brown. She hadn't gotten a chance to notice last night and they were watching her like they were waiting for something.   
"I got the call that they were transferring someone in a couple days ago. I didn't have time to review your file."

She read between the lines. He hadn't known who she was in that bar last night. Well he wasn't the only one. 

Lana cleared her throat, "The details of my transfer were vague. I didn't know what team they would be placing me in."  
It was simple enough truth, and he nodded, that same thoughtful rhythm he had done before walking out of her apartment. Lana looked away. 

"Is this going to be a problem?"

Lana's gaze snapped back. That frank look was in his eye again. He wanted it straight, and Lana smoothed her expression. No way was she going to cause trouble on her first day.  
"Is what going to be a problem, sir."

He smiled, just barely enough to even call it one, pleased it was settled, and nodded his head to the door. "Dismissed."

She walked out a little stunned. She was normally the type to bounce back quick but this, this had thrown her. Not him apparently. The matter seemed addressed and dealt with before she had really caught up to the fact that she had accidentally slept with her _boss_.

She hadn't been in this city for two days and she had already screwed it up.   
Well _he_ had accidentally slept with a subordinate. So if he wanted to play it like nothing had happened, then she was just fine with that. 

She got settled in, familiarized herself with her station, answered the small talk from the others. Where she was from. Had she ever been to Chicago before? She answered just enough to keep that friendly vibe going.   
They took her for a techy, all brains and no street action. If Voight hadn't even read her file they wouldn't know she had spent five years on the force. Until the accident took her out of action.

Her right hand was damaged. Most days she didn't even notice it. But they wouldn't clear her to pull that trigger. They had said that was the only reason. She knew that wasn't true. Now here she was, using that college degree her mother had insisted she get. But atleast she was still in law enforcement. Atleast she was still doing _something_.

Erin and Antonio came sauntering back. She liked Antonio almost instinctively. He had that bad boy edge Jay seemed to be trying for, but shook her hand with an upfront kind of respect. Erin nodded a hello, but looked more than a little surprised. She was stunning, the kind of woman that made Lana just wanna fade back a little so no one would even try to compare them. She stayed active, lived healthy, but for as good as shape she was in she still looked soft, weak.   
Erin gave Jay a particularly friendly smile before crossing right to Voight's office. She didn't knock, a detail Lana noticed. 

* * *

  
Voight glanced up as Erin stepped in, setting Lana Malina's folder down. Having last night's distraction come walking in to his unit was the last thing he had been expecting, and he needed to get himself familiarized with her file before he ran in to any more surprises.

"You got an update for me?" They were running down a lead and he was curious.   
"Yeah, but first, what's with the new addition?"

Voight folded his fingers, "Brass sent her in."  
Erin crossed her arms with an amused scoff. "What happened to 'you choose this team'"

Voight gave her a pointed look reserved for the times she acted like his mouthy daughter and not a subordinate but she didn't pay it any mind.   
"We need someone on tech. We'll see how she does. If it doesn't work out," he shrugged, "it doesn't work out."

"uh-huh," Erin's hands went to her hips, expression entirely too calculating. She had been doing too much of that lately. Ever since Justin, any time he did something she wasn't expecting, anything she deemed out of character, she faced it down like it was the start of some downward spiral.   
"Look," Voight stood, "she's not going into the field with you. I don't have to trust her to have your back, just to," he waved a hand, making it clear he didn't actually know what it exaclty it was that tech crew did, "run addresses," he finished.   
He watched her relax, satisfied it seemed and she smiled, "well we got some info for you." She headed out the door and waited for him to follow so she and Antonio could bring him up to date on the case. 

* * *

  
Lana fit into the job easier than she expected. Hardly any of them knew enough about computers to give her any actual directives, she just picked up what they needed from their conversations and ran it for them. Address searches, cell phone records. It was pretty simple stuff. A drug deal had gone sideways and they were hunting down those responsible before there was gang retaliation. Thankfully it was a fairly easy catch, and they were wrapped up before the end of shift.   
Fitting into the team was shaping up to be interesting. There was a strange dynamic here. There was this obvious grid of support where they would have eachother's backs through anything, and she got the feeling in some cases it literally meant _anything_. But at the same time there was this tranluscent breath of mistrust just hovering over the room. Like both respect and doubt shaped almost all of their relationships.

She didn't know how much she really wanted to get involved with any of that.   
A job. That's what she was here to do. Not make friends. Not make connections. And not make mistakes.   
Her gaze flicked to the office at the back and she sighed. Any _more_ mistakes.

Her day finished and she walked out to cold rain. It felt good, in that fitting kind of way, like when she used to press her tongue against that loose tooth just to feel that pain. There was something satisfying about it.   
The city ignored her. Too busy, too full to glance her way and she turned her collar up and let it pass by her.   
She ate cold pizza for dinner, turned on an old movie and zoned out. It was past midnight before she fell asleep.

* * *

  
She had been at it for a week. The officers were in and out on calls, some days she spent most of the day alone. Voight issued orders and that was about it. Like he had just forgotten what their bodies had done.   
And maybe he had. It would have been the sensible thing to do.

She wondered if she should be offended, if she should want him to remember everytime he looked at her. If she should be able to see the memories flashing in the back of his eye. But she knew that wasn't fair. They had used eachother, plain and simple. The fact that she could show up and work with the man without it being awkward was a relief. She was too tired to deal with anything else.   
No, this was how she preferred it.

The team insisted on using that old dry erase board but Lana didn't mind. They used a ridiculous amount of ink printing everything they stuck up on that board but it gave her a break from staring at a screen all day.   
It had been a calm week, relatively normal bloodshed, for Chicago anyway. It was strange. You didn't get used to it, staring at photos of the dead. But you learned what it looked like. There was something to it, being able to identify what had caused the damage gave you a way of looking at it. A gun shot victim looked like a gun shot victim. A useless, senseless loss of life but knowing what did it helped somehow. Maybe it was the brain's way of compartmentalzing, she didn't know.

But some of them she hadn't learned. She knew this was a special unit, for those cases that needed that extra step, but the first time they put a child on that board, her brain had stopped working for a moment.

She didn't understand what she was looking at.

Voight dropped a book on her desk and told her to pay attention. They didn't need her slacking off while they were in the middle of trying to solve this thing. Her anger was cut short by the barely contained danger in his eye.   
However they solved this thing she suddenly wasn't sure it would be entirely legal.

She had kept her head down all week. You would think it would be impossible not to hear gossip but it was if you tried hard enough. She knew Voight had a reputation. She purposefully stopped short of finding out what that was.   
She didn't want to know. She wanted to do her job and go home.

But when she found the LKA of their suspect Voight faced down the room.   
"If you're not comfortable, stay here."   
It seemed an odd order, but he didn't have to explain it, and in the end, no one stayed.   
Still she didn't miss the way Erin chased after Voight, tried to talk him down in a way that seemed entirely familiar.   
Lana dismissed it. After all, what was it to her?

She stayed on the comms, feeding every intel she could gather to the team in the field. Half way through, Voight's comms shut off. It wasn't the first time this had happened. He usually shrugged it off and blamed it on some faulty tech. She would offer to switch them out and he would nod. She would switch them and it would keep happening.   
But this time a man's scream came through Erin's comm, faint but it picked it up.  
Erin cursed, started shouting for Voight to back off and Lana listened with that same empty pit in her stomach she got when she stood in that cold, cold rain.   
Aching. Fitting.

They trudged back with confirmation of the arrest and Lana watched Erin clear the board. Voight stopped by her desk just long enough to drop his comms off before she could say a word. 

* * *

  
10 pm and Voight heard a knock on his door. He downed his shot of whiskey and crossed the hall, gun ready. It was the kind of habit years on the job developed, and he took a cautious glance outside.   
He swung the door open a moment later, regarding the young woman on his front porch with a fair amount of surprise.   
"You need something?"

Lana's jacket was pulled tight around her, it was damp with the slight night rain, and he stepped back, letting her in. It was funny, there were times when she looked almost sweet, tucked over her work in her desk. He would catch a glimpse of full cheeks, long dark lashes against warm skin. She was curved in a way that looked soft. Seeing her like that he never would have been able to picture her, elbow resting on a scuffed bar, gaze direct and inviting. But when she faced him down like she was doing now, that was a different view entirely.

Those high cheeks met a sharp jaw, lips that curved up in a daring way. Narrowed eyes that glinted with an assesing light. She was striking in her own way, with an edge to her expression that looked almost cold. Distant.

"Your comms," she stated, and he stood simply waiting for her to stay more. "you don't have to keep dropping them off to me.

He smirked just enough for his lips to move. "Given up tryin to figure out what's wrong with them?" he moved towards the other room to offer her a drink, but she didn't follow.

"I know what's wrong with them."

Voight paused, then looked back at her. Her voice had an edge to it and he wondered exactly what stand she was about to take.

"But I don't think there's any fixing it."

Voight shrugged. "They get the job done."

Lana's lips thinned, " _equipment _that doesn't work correctly can be dangerous. To the whole team."__

____

____

Voight's anger stirred. He was tired. Worn out from a too long day that barely ended well and now here was a brand new subordinate, in his home, trying to tell him how to do his job.   
" _I_ take care of my team," three long strides brought him face to face with her, "and that team only includes you if _I_ say it does."

Her almond eyes flashed wide, she hadn't been expecting that, and he watched a flush form beneath her bronzed skin. For a second every word she wanted to sling at him flared behind her eyes before she took a slow breath.

"I didn't come here to argue, _sir_." She forced out the word with a bit of sarcasm, and he caught the scent of alcohol on her breath. Not drunk, just enough to be brazen, and he saw her scoff and turn away.

His voice stopped her as she reached the door.   
"Then why did you come here."

Lana straightened, turning back to face him with a simmering anger tinged with embarrassment. She met his gaze but didn't speak.

Yeah, she had shown up at his door late at night. But reading in to these situations is what got people in trouble. He crossed his arms, jaw working with pent up impatience. "You can answer or you can leave, Milani. I'm not in to guessing games right now."

Her chin raised with that back bone he couldn't help but respect.  
"I want to forget what I saw today."

It wasn't a plea, or a wavering break in emotion. It was cold fact and Voight grunted a little, keeping her fixed in his gaze and let the silence stretch.   
Then he dropped his arms and covered the distance between them.

He didn't pull them into his room, didn't lay her on his bed, tug her hair free of that sharp ponytail she wore in the office and let her dark hair fall wild against the warm tone of her skin. This wasn't that.   
She pressed him into the couch and he let her go. Part of him wouldn't even look at her.

She wasn't silent this time. Let out a week of frustration with those sounds against his lips and he drowned in them

Her kiss was hard and long. It wasn't searching, or deepening, and he let her do it. Two people connected with a need to feel but not feel together. It was a safe, all consuming relief and he grunted into her neck as he shuddered beneath her.

She rolled off of him, full hips slick with sweat and she dressed without looking at him.   
"See you Monday, Sergeant." It was casual, like she was saying goodbye at the office, and Voight coughed out a wry laugh.   
"Goodnight, Malina."

He said it to the sound of a closing front door.


	3. Pattern

It was a pattern neither of them meant to fall into. Professional, intentional distance at the job. His gaze never lingered, touch never found a reason to brush her own. It was like they were nothing to eachother. In truth, that's probably what they were. But twice more they had shown up at each other's door, sweated their way to some type of temporary peace.   
They never talked, never held eachother and drifted off to sleep. Never wanted to. They got their fix and walked away. 

Lana set her coffee on her desk with a yawn, feeling it straight through her abs. She had gotten quite a workout last night.   
The office was fairly dark. She was in almost a full hour before shift, but she wanted to get an early start and couldn't take one more minute staring at the ceiling.

The door to Voight's office opened and Lana started, her hand knocking into her coffee. She managed to snag it before it spilled all over her files. That was the last thing she needed.

"Nice save." Voight's voice almost held humor, and she sent him a sideways look as she moved a few folders out of the way and set her coffee down further away from her.   
"Thanks." She hadn't expected him to be in yet. Clearly he hadn't been expecting her either.

He cleared his throat. "You're in early."  
"Yeah," Lana answered, gaze focused intently on her desk like it held her absolute attention, "Couldn't sleep." 

She hadn't meant to admit that, especially not to him, but she had felt like she needed a reason for showing up so early and that was the first thing she could think of.

He huffed out something that sounded like a chuckle. For one second she wondered how this would go. If their touches actually meant something, if they were something real to eachother and found themselves alone in an empty office. Would he joke that he thought he had tired her out. Would he ask her why she had trouble sleeping?   
Would he cross to her desk and kiss her good morning with that same dogged insistence he did everything with?

She shoved the thought with almost physical force. What the hell was wrong with her? She cleared her throat.   
"I was coming in to get some files organized but I can't seem to find some of the ones I need. They were from before my time here but they tied in to last weeks investigation and I wanted to update the information."   
"You talking about the O'conner case?"  
She nodded, and he seemed to deliberate, "Well," he crossed to Antonio's desk and stole his chair, pulled it in front of Lana's desk and sat down. "What do you wanna know."  
They spent the next hour going over the holes in Lana's reports. Part of her wondered how much of this was him just keeping his story straight or reciting actual facts, but either way his mind was like a steel trap. He brought her up to date on everything. When Erin came in she slowed a little at the sight of Voight relaxed back in his chair next to Lana's desk, but the sergeant pushed to his feet without a word of explanation and slid Antonio's chair back in place.   
"Morning Erin."   
He moved back into his office as Erin set her bag on her desk. She sent Lana a questioning glance that the other woman either didn't see or ignored. Erin hummed to herself a little in thought before she got in to starting her day. 

* * *

  
Three weeks into her time here, Lana's lunch break was interrupted the sound of none too subtle voices arguing in the back. She looked up as Erin stormed out of Voight's office, cheeks red with anger and eyes flashing in a way that made everyone step back.   
Voight was glaring after her, hands fisted in unbelievable frustration and not for the first time, Lana felt her curiosity spike.

This time after work, she accepted Burgess's offer to go out for a drink and headed down to Molly's after shift.   
It was a blue bar, off duty officers and firemen seemed to fill every corner and she was pulled through several introductions. Severide was an eye full and she let her gaze linger, catching Burgess's eyeroll.  
"Don't waste your time. He's a great guy, just a bit of a ladies man. Unless you're in to that sort of thing," she back pedalled, smile suddenly shy, "I just realized I don't even know what you're in to."  
Lana laughed "He's cute, but he's not really my type."

Burgess waved down Hermann for a couple of drinks and started talking about a call they had had that day. Lana filtered the information through her mind, waiting to catch onto something useful, and when the officer mentioned Erin she found her in.   
"You know I've been wondering something. What's the deal with Erin and Voight?"

Burgess looked a little surprised, but shrugged, "Well it hasn't exactly been easy between them," she spoke around her straw as she leaned over her drink.  
"What did they break up or something?" Lana asked, and Burgess choked.  
"What? Break Up? No. they, they aren't, weren't, they are not _together_."

She stared at Lana like she had grown a few more heads and Lana shrugged like it was a simple mistake.   
"It's obvious they're close, I just assumed..." she trailed off, and Burgess finished sputtering long enough to recover.  
"Voight is Lindsey's father. Sort of. He took her in when she a teen ager. Helped raise her."

Lana sat back. She hadn't been expecting that. She stirred her drink thoughtfully. Voight treated their thing with such casual coldness she had just assumed it was how he was. Taking in a teenager and raising her as his own didn't fit the mental picture she had been shaping of the man. Not that she knew much about him. He drew a straight line to justice that some cops weren't comfortable crossing and he left his personal life somewhere she at least had never seen.   
And she had seen plenty of him.

"But you said things hadn't been easy between them?" she prompted, wanting more information.  
Burgess just blinked at her, "Well ever since they lost Justin they've been handling it different ways I guess."  
Lana drew back, "Who's Justin?"  
Burgess was shocked. "I, I thought you knew. You've been here a few weeks now. Justin was Voight's son. His _actual_ son. He was murdered, a couple months back. It was terrible for all of us, but Voight and Lindsey were devastated."

"That's awful," she muttered, almost on reflex. Lana absorbed the news slowly. Voight lost a son. The tough, unbreakable exterior had _this_ walled up behind it all along. It made sense then, what he was escaping from. Why he kept coming back. Loss was a hard thing to run away from.

"You really had no idea?" Burgess asked, and Lana gave a self embarrassed shrug.   
"I don't really pay attention to office gossip. I guess there's a lot I missed out on."  
"Like how I was engaged to Ruzek?"  
Lana laughed, "You're kidding." She sobered at Burgess's look, "Oh. Oh you're not kidding. Wow."

She stared across the bar at the shelf full of bottles.  
"Yeah," Burgess twisted forward in her seat and stared with her.   
"Anything else I should know?" she finally asked after a minute, and Burgess snorted.   
"How much time do we have?"  
  


* * *

Lana walked home, head spinning. Burgess had shared _alot_. Snippets and tiddles of people's lives and actual information she had been clueless about. In some ways she wondered if she really should have known. If _not_ knowing made her unable to fully do her job. She was supposed to help protect these people. Knowing about their lives might be part of that.  
She took the stairs to her apartment, fit the key in the lock and dropped her bag on the table by the door.

Eating ice cream in an over sized tshirt was the only thing on her agenda right now.   
She was wiped.   
Her tshirt was stained but the worn-in kind of comfortable and she was almost to the kitchen when her phone buzzed. She wanted to ignore it, but she detoured to her bag in the hall and tugged it out of the side pocket.

Voight's number flashed on the screen and she opened the text.   
-you up?  
She almost rolled her eyes at the horribly cliche text, before typing out a quick reply.   
_Yes. why._  
Her phone buzzed a moment later.   
-i'm outside

She didn't like what her heart did. That sudden twist of panic before it began to beat a half beat too fast. She was by the door already. Two feet from it and she crossed with a small sigh.

Voight was leaning against the door jam, waiting as the door was opened and he took in her tshirt and mussed hair with a sharp kind of smirk. The hot, teasing kind. Not the soft, cute kind and she felt her stomach lurch.   
She wasn't prepared for this. To have him here. After learning about his son. His pain.

"Can I come in?"

She stepped back, and he followed, pulling her to him before he was even a step inside and she let her lips tangle with his. Felt his need and her heart broke.   
She couldn't even imagine, losing a son like that. To murder. Those photos they looked at every day. One of them could have been his _son_.

She crushed her body against his, let her hands slip through his hair and pull him that much closer, passed her lips in a soft caress against his own. She _held_ him, full and gentle against her in a way she was going to get lost in and he made a startled, almost frightened sound in the back of his throat that shredded her heart into two.

He broke away from her abruptly, harsh confusion boring out of his eyes and Lana fought the tears that gathered.

"Hank. I just heard about your son, I'm so sorry."

He turned away, hand brushing over his mouth in agitation, before spinning back to face her. Anger, betrayal was in his eyes.   
"I didn't come here for that." He jabbed his finger at her like it was an accusation and Lana shook her head, strangely trembling.

"I know. I'm sorry. I just, I didn't know-" he waved a hand at her, cutting her off.

"I'm gonna go." He turned his back against the emotion in her eyes and Lana bit back an oath.

"Wait." She caught his arm and pulled him back hard, "there's no need."  
She slid her body against his and trailed her nails down his neck. A promise and an invitation. She would behave.

His anger still hovered in his eye and Lana brought her nails down his chest.

Their gazes met. He knocked her hand away, grabbed her wrist and brought her against him, slid his lips down her neck and felt her gasp. She knocked her bag to the ground as he lifted her onto the table by the door. Mail scattered as his breath quickened.

They never made it any further into the apartment. 

* * *

  
He didn't sleep. Spent, exhausted, but his mind betrayed him. It spiraled down into memory of touch. Not the rapid, building moments but that traitorous one before. Soft lips and pressing hands. So _caring_.   
Just begging him to fall apart.

He wouldn't do it. Didn't need it. Didn't _want_ it.

She had made up for it after, eager and almost wild. Like she knew she had messed up.   
Just by showing compassion.  
What a screwed up situation he had gotten himself in.

She was good at her job. Quick, and smart she had moved into the position seamlessly, held herself together against the worst of cases.   
He had read her file, was impressed by her former work in the field. It was a shame an injury had taken her out, she would have made a heck of a detective. There were some questions her file raised. Like why she had transfered so far from home. Or how extensive the injury had actually been. But he had purposefully avoided finding out. Avoided anything that would have seemed like getting too personal. Not with a woman he stripped down with on the regular.

He couldn't keep doing this. He didn't hold to inter office relationships. And he knew full well this wasn't a relationship. But he decided then and there was cutting himself off.   
He'd leave his door open if she wanted it but he wouldn't be showing up at hers.

He had gotten along just fine before she ever stepped foot into his life and he would get along just fine without it.


	4. Distracted

What was she _thinking_? Lana flipped through another stack of papers, trying to pay attention to what Antonio was asking her. It wouldn't do anyone any good showing up distracted. 

She was the one determined to make it through here without forming attachments. They got you in trouble. Particularly with your boss. 

Particularly with the boss you were sleeping with. 

She was breaking her own rule and she wasn't sure how much more pathetic it got than that. 

Antonio was perched on the corner of her desk, going over some financials with Lana when Erin and Jay came back in. They'd gone out with Voight a couple hours before and from the looks of things it hadn't gone well. Erin looked angry, that bone deep kind she reserved for when someone she loved was doing something stupid. Jay avoided looking at Antonio, and he hopped off of Lana's desk, concerned. 

"What's up?"

Lana looked up then from her typing, watching Erin sigh before she responded. 

"We got one in the cage." 

Antonio drew back some, "Already? We just caught this case, how does he have a suspect?" 

Jay dropped his jacket on his chair and sat down, hands lifting in a shrug. They all knew how Voight operated, or rather _didn't_ actually know. 

Antonio glanced down at Lana. She had been here a few weeks now, had learned quick that Voight pushes rules sometimes. But she hadn't been there, seen what they had all seen after Justin died. Voight hadn't blurred those lines. He had bulldozed them. 

Lana was smart, did more than her share of work, but while she was nice enough, she didn't seem too interested in getting to know everyone. Maybe that was a good thing. 

Voight got the job done, but he got people tangled up into things. The whole team had been involved in one cover-up or another at this point. Yeah it was to help eachother, watch eachother's backs. But maybe Lana would be better off staying on the outside of all of that. 

He shook his head, hands dropping from his hips with a sigh. "You keep running those numbers for me, would ya?" he asked, glancing at Lana. It was really just his way of telling her to stay put while he tracked down Voight and figured out what was happening.

* * *

Voight met Antonio coming down the stairs, and ignored the blatant look in his eye. Antonio was a good cop and when it came down to it he stuck with them, but he never really liked what Voight had going on. 

Voight just waved him back up the stairs. The rest of the team was waiting none too subtly and Voight faced them all. 

He was fed up with everyone looking at him like he was gonna snap. Like he was somehow going to forget what happened to Justin if they didn't keep an eye on him. If they didn't keep it there at the back of their eye, that _knowledge. His son is dead better watch what I say._

"We got a new case. Everything else goes on hold. Olinski got a call, friend of his wife is missing. Now it hasn't been 48 hours so there hasn't been a report but that scumbag I got down there _saw_ an abduction happen. We find her. We bring her home." He scanned the room with a look that made it clear he wasn't gonna hear any objections. 

His gaze landed on Lana, watching him with a direct focus. Hers was the only expression that didn't have something beneath it. No wariness. No sign of that frantic compassion he had choked against last night. Her gaze was waiting, and empty. He pointed to his door, "My office, Milani."

She followed him in without a word. 

Voight dropped into his chair. Spinning it to face her, he settled back. 

"We don't have a case." He didn't bother trying to sugar coat it. "My only witness is cracked out and isn't going to file a police report. Legally," he spread his hands a little, "we do nothing until she's officially missing."

"But you're not going to do that." Lana stated. The both understood the reality, the kidnapper would have already had this woman for 48hours once a report was filed. The chances of survival plummeted at that point. 

Voight nodded. "I'm not. They're not." He waved a hand at the closed door. "This _team_ isn't."

She took a moment before responding, watching that challenge in his eye. No, not a challenge. an ultimatum. She either did what it takes or she didn't have a place here. 

She had turned a blind eye while he cut corners. Maintained that plausible deniability. There wouldn't be any now. 

Was she up for that?

Six months ago she would have recoiled at the thought. She hadn't become a cop just to break the law. Yeah, sometimes the red tape got frustrating. Sometimes you put your heart into a case just to have them walk on a technicality. But in her experience, the system didn't fail until you failed it. When you got impatient, tired of the politics. 

When you lied on a report to help your partner just to learn you never should have trusted him in the first place. 

Now, with her badge all but stripped away, stuck at a desk half way across the country from home, one would think she would have learned her lesson. But it just made her tired. 

Voight wasn't her partner. He was her superior. He wasn't afraid of risks, of getting his hands dirty. 

And he wasn't asking. 

Lana settled her hands behind her back, "What do you need me to do?"

He nodded twice before a smile slipped out, only for a second. It might have just been relief but he almost looked like he was proud. 

He gave her a name and a simple order. 

"Find her."

* * *

"Looks like it's gonna be another late one," Ruzek glanced at his watch, five o'clock had come and gone and they were still chasing down every lead on this case. They were two days in to this missing woman case, whose life didn't just fall out of danger just because they wanted to clock out, and none of them were even thinking of going home. 

Lana pushed up from her desk abruptly. 

"I got it!" She had spent the last several hours searching for any info of where the kidnapper could be holding his victim. Finally she found an abandoned property associated with their lead suspect. She finished scribbling the address on a post-it note. She used more of them here working for these detectives then she ever had in her life. 

Voight left his office, striding towards the door intent on running down a potential lead and Lana intercepted him. 

"Here," She went to give him the note as he turned and somehow her hand connected with his chest. "Sorry," she took a step back. "Uh, I found an address." 

He looked down immediately and plucked the sticky note from his shirt. He turned to the rest of his team. "Let's roll out." 

Lana stayed attached to the comms. The team's call outs turned distorted, interference had every other word slipping out between static. She couldn't interpret much, raised voices, what sounded like a struggle. Working furiously to clear up the signal, she just prayed they found the woman in time. She worked at a school cafeteria, with two small kids. It had been a wrong place wrong time kind of deal and she just wanted them to bring this woman home to her family. 

A few more cracks of static and the comms suddenly cleared as the team exited the abandoned warehouse. Voight's voice cut through the channel. 

"We got her, Malina. She's okay. You did good." 

Lana sat back, breath leaving her in a full body sigh. He didn't usually address her like that through the comms, but right now she was grateful he had, that she knew it was over. Her gaze went to the white board. Photos of suspects. The woman taken. But no bodies. No blood patterns. She needed days like this sometimes. 

The team came in, tired but good. Antonio slapped her shoulder as he walked by. Erin said they were headed out for a drink. She politely declined, smiled her goodbyes, caught Voight's nod as she left, a silent goodnight she returned with a smile. 

She fell asleep easy but it didn't last. She woke in a cold sweat. 4:22 and there was no going back to sleep, not with the dreams she was having. She flipped her blankets off with a groan. This was turning into a really sucky habit and she just wanted to _sleep_. She grabbed her phone and pretended she wasn't checking it for missed messages. They had had a good shift. That wasn't the kind you blew off steam after and she shouldn't be surprised Voight hadn't called. 

For half a stupid second she wondered if he would be up. They had a few hours before shift started. But showing up at 4am screamed a particular kind of desperate that she was set on avoiding. 

She settled for throwing her work clothes in her bag and heading to the precinct to use the all hour gym. She had energy, she might as well use it. 

* * *

Voight nodded to the officer at the front desk and turned towards the gated stairs. He scanned his badge, catching sight of a figure in his peripherals and glanced over.

Lana had just come around the corner, gym bag slung over the shoulder of her button down. Her hair was wet and pulled back, her normally slick ponytail starting to curl, leaving little drips along her collar like she had gotten ready in a hurry after her shower. It would have dried by now if she had showered at home. 

He nodded Good morning and held the gate open so she wouldn't have to scan in. 

"Thanks," it was almost a mumble and Voight slid her a glance she ignored as they headed upstairs. 

She dropped her bag on her desk as Voight headed into the breakroom to put some coffee on. He liked the quiet before shift started. The desks standing empty, sometimes it was peaceful. Sometimes it seemed like a waste, cases left on the board to sit over night. You learned on this job that the day had to end. Fresh eyes in the morning was sometimes all it took to catch that break. But walking away, even for the night, was hard. 

Walking away yesterday had been easier. They had found the missing woman, returned her home unharmed. But still once he got home he hadn't been able to relax. It still felt like they hadn't done enough. Like _he_ hadn't done enough. They'd closed a case and he still felt lacking. 

He had picked up his phone he didn't know how many times. Didn't use it though. He had made a decision and he stuck to them. That didn't stop him from checking his messages. It wasn't surprising she hadn't called. 

But looking at her now it was obvious she was agitated, shoving her gym bag under her desk and growling that she couldn't find a pen. Voight settled his shoulder against the break room door.

"How long you been here, Milani."

She looked up, clearly not having expected him to speak and he watched her blink. 

"I wanted to get a work out in before shift."

His brow cocked, that wasn't an actual answer. "You look tired," he observed, and she stiffened.

"I'm fit for duty." A respectfully correct response but there was an edge to it and Voight's head lowered a little as he raised a brow at her.

"Did I imply you weren't?" 

She settled back at that, took a deep enough breath to shake off whatever mood she was in. 

"No sir." Her gaze met his but the challenge in her eye was gone. 

"You know," Voight pulled a pen from his pocket and waved it at the other desks, "Sometimes I think some of these clowns don't even know what dawn looks like." He pushed off from the door frame, but paused by her on his way into his office. "Me?" he dropped the pen on her desk, "I'm usually up early." 

He met her gaze just long enough before ducking in to his office. 


	5. Injured

It was her first time working out of the office, and Lana shifted in the metal seat. They had needed her on a surveillance run. Finally out on the street and she was stuck in the back of a nondescript van.

Still, with not being cleared for active duty, it was more than she had been expecting, and she was grateful for the change of scenery.

Not that she had much to look at at the moment.

The back door creaked open, and she glanced up to see Voight stepping in. He shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it over the chair beside Milani's and sat down.

"Anything?" he asked, and Lana shook her head.

"No, it's been quiet."

They were sitting on a house, waiting for a suspect to come home and she had already been here a few hours. She stretched, wincing a little as her left hand twinged. She had hit it on something this morning. It was just bruised enough to be annoying and she shook it out a little as she watched the surveillance feed in front of her.

"That the hand you injured?"

She glanced over, surprised he had noticed, to find Voight watching her.

"From the accident," he continued when she didn't answer right away.

"Oh, no," she dropped her hand in her lap. Of course he had finally gotten around to reading her file. "I just banged it on something this morning."

He hummed a little, watching Lana readjust some of the equipment that didn't seem to need adjusting.

"So it's the other one," he prompted.

"Hmm?" Lana glanced at him, like she had only half heard his question because she was busy. Except Lana wasn't the type to not pay attention.

"It's your right hand that got injured in the car accident." He asked it plainly, and she nodded.

"Yes sir."

Voight shrugged, scratching his chin. "I've never seen it give you any trouble."

He was curious, more by her reaction than anything. He understood keeping personal details away from the job, but an injury that affected her ability to be an officer was as much his business as he wanted it to be, and right now he wanted to know.

"It doesn't most days."

Voight considered that. He had seen cops taken out of action over stuff he never expected. If she hadn't been cleared by medical then she hadn't been cleared. Maybe her attitude now was just frustration, that something that she barely noticed kept her from fully doing the job she loved. She hadn't walked away, had found a part of the job she could do, but sometimes that was harder. To be that close to what you wanted and to have to watch other people get to step in.

"So what happened."

Lana's brow rose a little, Voight was being abnormally talkative and she wasn't quite sure how to take that. He worded questions in a way that prompted information. Direct questions got succinct response. Vague inquiries got people talking.

"You read the file," she countered, and his expression moved, fell into that look that said he was not pleased. Lana pretended not to notice. She had never got to read the file, didn't know how much it reported and how much it didn't.

How many of her lies had made it in to print.

His forefingers flexed from where they were laced against his stomach and she watched them tap in agitation.

"We were having a conversation. I can ask you again, Milani."

His meaning was clear, she didn't get to ignore questions from her superior officer, not about the job, and he was not afraid to pull rank if she wanted to act like their little arrangement meant she got to ignore authority.

Lana sighed. "We were on patrol, were crossing an intersection when another vehicle ran a stop sign from the right and collided with us."

"We?" Voight repeated, and Lana shot him a look.

"My partner and I," she clarified. Either he was testing her details or her hadn't actually read the accident report.

"You were behind the wheel?" Her file had said was she had been injured while driving during a shift, but he found himself wanting to know exactly what happened.

She nodded, gaze slipping to check the monitors, before it glanced back.

"The other vehicle was ruled at fault. I was put on leave while I recovered and when I wasn't cleared for active duty, they transfered me."

Voight pursed his lips a little. "And your partner?"

She sent him a 'what do you mean' look, and he shrugged a little. "If you were hit passenger side they must have gotten pretty banged up."

Lana's lips thinned but she blinked it away.

"No, just a couple scrapes. He's still on duty there."

Voight's brow rose a little, his chair grating against the floor of the van as he shifted. Lana's right hand had been injured enough to take her out of action but the officer between her and the vehicle that had struck them was fine. He had seen stranger things happen, but it didn't sit right.

"He must have been lucky," his comment was met with an unchanging expression, gaze fixed solely on the feed in front of her.

"The other driver wasn't."

Said like an after thought, so quiet Voight almost missed it, and then Lana looked at him. Something too frank and so familiar in her gaze it knotted like a stone in his stomach.

Regret overshadowed the guilt in her eye, but her voice was too clear, too certain. It didn't waver, and somehow that made it seem all the more broken.

"They didn't make it."

Voight didn't speak, didn't even know what to say, when a car pulled up on the monitor and Lana's attention snapped back.

"We got movement."

Voight shrugged into his jacket, and checked his comms. His team was in position and with one parting glance at Lana, they moved in.

* * *

' _Just do this for me. Please, Lani.'_

_His green eyes shone bright with a pleading she couldn't ignore. Her adrenaline was up, normal after an accident but her hands wanted to shake, aggravating the pain that was splintering through her forearm. She looked at the damaged police car blankly, shaking her head to clear it only made her feel woozy. She must have hit it in the crash._

_'Lani, please.'_

_The sound of sirens grew in distance. It was usually comforting. Now it sounded distorted._

_'Okay' she nodded slowly, growing stronger. 'yeah, okay, I'll do it.'_

_Relief washed through her partner's eye._

Lana's hand smacked her end table when she jerked awake, and she groaned. That was the second time she had done that this week. She kicked her covers off, feeling the cooler air hit the sweat that had formed in a film on her body. It woke her body up, letting it catch up to her mind that had lost all thought of sleep the moment she opened her eyes.

She barely even looked at the clock, not surprised to see it was just past 4. She never made it to her alarm anymore.

The dreams had been worse. Too real, too much like memory, and Lana walked her dark apartment and stepped into the kitchen. The fridge light was too bright and she squinted away, snatching out an orange juice and chugging it down.

She hated orange juice, but it had enough vitamins to fight whatever was in this heavy Chicago air.

Sometimes she really missed the sunshine.

She killed time. Wouldn't have admitted that's what she was doing but from the moment she woke up she knew she was just waiting til it wasn't too early but still early enough to go knocking on that blasted door.

That had to have been what he meant, when he made it a point to tell her he was up early.

Either way, she was gonna find out.

It was his fault anyway. Asking about that accident had brought back every little detail she convinced herself was forgotten.

The other driver. A young woman, hadn't been paying attention. Maybe it was a text or changing the radio, a simple mistake, not worth dying over. She had bled out beneath Lana's hands. Sometimes she wondered. If they had gotten to her sooner. If they hadn't stop to argue over something that at the time seemed so insignificant, maybe she would have lived. The ME never said.

Lana never asked.

Maybe she should have.

Maybe she should have done a lot of things differently, but she couldn't change that now.

She stepped out of the uber at the end of Voight's block. Walked through the slight chill in the air. It raced across her skin like an unwelcome thought, and she quickened her step.

There were people. not many, but enough for this hour. This city never stayed sleeping long.

She saw the car parked on the street but didn't give it much mind. Assumed it was a neighbour's. It wasn't Voight's. She hadn't quite turned up the drive when the front door opened and Lana stopped.

A woman stepped out. She was pretty, that classy kind of looks that for one bizarre moment reminded Lana of her mother.

The woman stopped, turning to say something to Voight. The street was just quiet enough for Lana to hear her call him 'Hank."

Voight smiled, and there was warmth there, so genuine Lana glanced away. When she looked back the woman had stepped forward, slipped her arms around Voight in a hug that may have been brief, may have been an embrace, Lana didn't know. She was walking away.

* * *

Voight waved after Benson. She was going to check in to her hotel then meet them at the office. He had been surprised to see her but after she had brought him up to date on the case that had brought her to his city, he wasn't surprised she hadn't wasted any time.

She had called him from the airport after catching a red eye and he had invited her over, wanting to get up to speed before he called the team in. He grabbed the phone, turning back inside.

He had Erin's contact on the screen but on a whim he backed out, switch to Milani's and hit send.

"Sir?" The sound of wind passed through the call, and her breath was slightly strained, like she had been hurrying. He was a fraction away from asking where she was when he shook his head clear. It wasn't his business.

"I need you at the office. We caught a case."

"Oh. yes sir. I'll head in."

Lana disconnected the call, phone clutched to her stomach she took a slow inhale. When she saw his name she thought for certain he had spotted her but, it would seem at least, that that wasn't the case. She stood for a moment, face to a grey sky, just taking a breath. Then she called an Uber and gave him the address for the precinct.

* * *

Lana stepped out of the locker room, tugging her button up in place. She had dressed in a hurry, hadn't showered, and didn't want to be the last one in.

She took the stairs two at a time, slowing as she reached the top and stepped into the office calmly.

The woman she had seen leaving Voight's home stood beside her desk, and Lana just stopped.

"Oh, good morning. You must be Lana. I'm Sergeant Benson."

Lana shook the offered hand, gaze shooting to Voight's closed door.

"Nice to meet you." Lana cleared her throat, dropping her hand at her side. "I guess the others aren't in yet."

"They'll be here." Voight's voice preceded him as he stepped from the break room, somehow rougher than normal. "Olivia," He handed Sergeant Benson a cup of coffee, pale with cream, and she took it with a smile.

"You remembered how I like my coffee." She raised a brow as she took a sip and they shared a look, the comfortable kind that said there was something there. It may have just been simple friendship but having seen them together this morning suggested otherwise.

She had never heard of Sergeant Benson. Maybe she worked out of another precinct. Or maybe Lana's head was shoved so far in the sand she had just missed it entirely. She hadn't realized Voight was involved with someone else.

Not that they were involved. She knew that. Just, what if she had gotten to Voight's five minutes earlier, knocked on the door to have this woman answer it. Her stomach turned at the thought. Standing here was embarrassing enough and she was the only one who knew how stupid she had been.

She could be a real idiot sometimes.

"You alright, Lana?" Benson's voice was kind, watching her with a focus Lana hadn't been expecting, and she blinked twice.

"Yes, of course," she flashed a smile, "Just haven't had my coffee yet."

She was off balance and she knew she was showing it. Felt Voight's gaze on her and forcibly kept her expression neutral. Turning on her heel, she headed for the coffee and stayed in the break room until she heard the others come in.


	6. Away

Olivia Benson was placing photos on the board, battered woman with lifeless eyes and swollen faces. Six photos side by side as she wrote their names above. The room grew quiet as everyone watched.

"Fifteen years ago a woman was taken at a mall outside of Miami. 72 hours later her body was discovered. There was evidence that she had received beauty treatments, a manicure, a makeover, before she was sexually assaulted and strangled. Two years later another body was found outside of San Fransisco. Same MO. There have been four more cases since, each in different states, but the connection wasn't found until we had a victim in New York."

Sergeant Benson gestured at the last photo, "Chantil Jefferson. Twenty-two years old."

It lay on the room a heavy moment. A girl too young.

"We've run down every angle we can think of. But there has been next to no forensic evidence and what we have found has been wildly inconsistent. The nail polish or make up used, even the style with which it was applied, it's never the same. Six murders, that we know of, and we don't even have a suspect."

"How can we help?" Olinsky asked what they all wanted to know, and Voight stepped up.

"In one of the last cases a burner phone was used at the location the body was found that coincided with the time the ME determined the body had been dumped. They were able to trace it to the supplier. They couldn't get an identity of the buyer but they were able to confirm that a second burner phone was sold at the time of purchase. Sergeant Benson and her team have been monitoring the number and last night the phone was switched on, and used. In Chicago."

Lana felt something cold touch her chest.

"He's in my city," Voight's finger jabbed at the board, voice low and too calm, the type of steady they had all learned not to trust. "And I want him off my streets."

"So what's the plan," Antonio stood, hands on the back of his chair, he leaned over it, gaze on the photos of the woman.

"Based on what we have pieced together, each woman was taken from a mall, shortly after a public disturbance, usually with a significant other. In each case the woman leaves alone after the argument and never makes it home. They are usually dead within forty eight hours of disappearing." Benson explained.

"So he'll be watching malls." Olinksy stated, his hand clenching and relaxing around the pen he held, posture relaxed but it was clear in his eyes that his mind was working. "We narrow down where he'll be, and send Erin in, stage a fight and take him down when he tries to take her."

"If he hasn't found one already, "Attwater added, and Voight shook his head.

"He'll be playing a waiting game. His MO in choosing a victim is pretty specific. It might take him a while to find one he likes."

"What, women who get into fights with their man at the mall? I see it happen all the time." Jay interjected, and Olivia raised a hand.

"Yes but from what we've seen, it's more specific than that. Each victim has been a woman of color, taken after an argument with a white male."

Erin shook her head, "Why. That doesn't make any sense."

Olivia shrugged, "We don't know. Certainly something will come up in his psychiatric profile once we catch him to explain, but right now we're in the dark. Olinski had a good idea about staging a fight and seeing if he takes the bait, but unfortunately Erin, you don't fit the profile."

"Yeah, neither does Burgess." Attwater muttered. And Lana sat waiting for them all to realize the obvious.

When it didn't come, she cleared her throat.

"I'll do it."

Antonio sent her a surprised glance. "Go in the field? You aren't trained for it."

"She is," Voight spoke before Lana could, interrupting, and high brow raises swept the room. Benson spared a look at Voight who was watching Lana.

"We don't have time to find someone else. I fit the profile, let me do it." She stared Voight down. He was the only one who knew she wasn't supposed to be in the field, and he wasn't the type to care. Not with what this man was planning hanging over them.

Sergeant Benson seemed about to agree, and Voight touched her arm.

"A word," he shot the rest of them a look, resting on Lana a second longer. "find this guy's location. We need to know where to set this up."

Olivia followed Voight into his office and closed the door.

"What is it?" her arms folded across her chest, she watched Voight face her.

"Milani can do it. But she's not cleared for active duty. If we're gonna do this by the book," and his look said he knew full well she wouldn't have it any other way, "She won't be going in as a tactical officer. And she's not gonna be armed."

Olivia thought before she responded, a trait he respected, and he waited.

"Well ideally we would find someone else, but she's right. We don't have the time. But are you willing to send her in?"

There was something in the way Voight looked at her that she hadn't been expecting. She'd grown familiar with it, the moments when he was prepping to be defensive, but why now?

"Why wouldn't I be." he shrugged, and Olivia looked at him confused.

"You'd be sending one of your team in unarmed. That's a call you have to make."

Something relented and hardened in Voight's gaze all at once. "If she's willing, she's going in."

Olivia knew Voight well enough by now to know that was the end of that.

* * *

Lana was running the number of the burner phone Voight had given her, trying to get a last known location. Trying not to repeatedly glance at Voight's door

She wasn't the only one. Ruzek leaned forward in his chair and nodded at Voight's office.

"So what do you think. Have they or haven't they?" he spoke it low to Attwater but Olinsky smacked him on the back of the head.

"Is that really what your focus should be on right now?" He looked at all of them with that pent up impatience that came from years on the job. "We gotta find this guy."

Lana's gaze stayed fixed on her computer. Even when the door opened and Olivia came out, she didn't glance up. It wasn't until a phone number pinged as being in use, and they had an address that she shot to her feet.

"Voight. I've got him."

Voight barely broke stride. "Alright, let's roll out. Erin, get Olivia, she should be prepping the other player." His gaze landed on Lana. "You're with me."

* * *

She met the officer she would be going in with, an easy going patrolman that fit the part. He was handsome when he smiled and was eager to impress, willing to do just about anything to get in Intelligence's good graces. They were wired up, quick and efficient and before she knew it she was sitting in the passenger seat of Voight's car.

He didn't speak, not until they cleared the garage and were on the highway, then he glanced her way.

"You're simple bait, Milani. Stage a fight, walk away, and let him take you. The instant he does we move in. You won't be armed so be careful and stay on the comms."

Lana nodded, eyes watching the lines of the road. "I can handle myself."

Voight shook his head. "You aren't here to handle yourself. You're here to do your part and let us do the take down. Anything you do that you aren't cleared for could jeopardize this case."

Lana's brow rose before she could quite catch it, and he shot her a look before his gaze returned to the road.

"You got something to say?"

Lana shrugged a little. "You aren't usually so... by the book." she kept her tone casual but she was aware of the way he frowned.

"Benson is."

She hummed a little, a noncommittal, placating reply.

Voight was a force that didn't stop for anything. Anything, it seemed, except Sergeant Olivia Benson. He was willing to play this her way just to keep her happy, and Ruzek's poorly times question of 'have they are haven't they' was suddenly taking up a good portion of Lana's mind.

Sergeant Benson was stationed in New York. If they were doing long distance was it an open relationship? Did she know? That Voight got his fill on the side.?

Maybe she should feel guilty. She wasn't the type to mess with another woman's man. She had suspected there had been something with Erin at first, but it had seemed more like a past relationship. She hadn't known Voight had someone now. There was no way she could have. It was simple and impersonal but somehow before now, it hadn't felt cheap.

_She_ hadn't felt cheap.

But if Voight was using her behind the back of a woman like Sergeant Benson, who was beautiful and so freaking put together she was intimidating and calming all in the same stance, she felt like nothing more than a discarded tissue.

The car stopped abruptly, and Lana tugged the tightened seatbelt away from her chest with a grunt.

Voight was looking at her and he did not look pleased.

"I don't know where your head's at Milani but if it's not on this case there is no point in me sending you in there."

Lana swallowed a retort, eyeing the parking lot he had stopped on the outskirts of. Maybe they should have sent her in with Voight, and not the pretty boy from patrol. Staging an argument with the man would have been effortless at this point.

She would have even enjoyed it.

"I'm ready, sir."

He regarded her a hard second before relenting.

"Then get out."

Her door was closing before he spoke again.

"And be careful."

* * *

Lana threaded her fingers through those of a man she had just met, leaned against his arm and told herself to look natural. The mall was busy, foot traffic moving in and out. They had narrowed down where the suspect was staking out to within 100 meters, right around the food court. But there were a lot of people here. They had no physical description, nothing but an approximate location and an victim profiling to go off of. They were going to have to make a big scene or risk not getting noticed at all.

"What do you think, babe, you hungry?"

Officer Rodney slid an arm around her shoulders, tugged her close with the kind of smirk that he knew was attractive and Lana pressed into his side with a smile.

From inside the van, Antonio scoffed at the surveillance feed, "He didn't waste any time getting close to her."

"Would you?" Ruzek muttered. If she wasn't so standoffish he might have looked her way more than a time or two.

"Are you two gonna focus?" Voight's voice cracked through the comm's and Ruzek straightened.

"Nothing is standing out to us yet."

They had fed into the mall's security and were checking the crowds for any suspicious persons. Any one of them could be their man. Antonio had learned early on the job that a lot of the time the guilty never really looked the part.

Voight and Olinsky walked the crowd. Erin and Jay were strolling opposite of Lana and Rodney, looking half deep into an all day shopping spree and Jay was stuck carrying the bags.

Voight took the escalator to the second level, leaned over the balcony and kept Lana in his peripherals below.

She was a natural, blending in with the crowd, into the officer's side. They were basically on top of eachother once they chose a seat in food court.

Lana took a tug on her drink, and her voice sounded right in Voight's ear, low and just a little breathless.

"You ready?"

Voight resisted the urge to readjust his comm's.

"In position." he snapped, "Make it good."

Lana laughed at something Rodney had said, playing with her straw as she glanced down at her phone.

A second later she shot to her feet.

"How could you?!"

It was sharp and loud and heads turned as Lana stood over a pale faced Rodney, a white knuckled grip on the phone she shoved in his face.

"How, how could I what babe?"

"My sister just sent me the sonogram. You got her pregnant?!"

Voight's attention was trained on the crowd, anyone showing too much interest, but he heard the chuckle cut short over the comm's. They hadn't known what Lana was gonna pull, but someone was enjoying it.

Rodney was squirming now. "Babe, I thought she was on the pill!"

The perfect low blow to an already irate woman.

Lana's face turned cold. That sudden rage in that terrifying moment before it exploded and Ruzek was tapping Antonio's arm repeatedly.

"She's gonna go for the drink."

Antonio rolled his eyes, "Oh she is not going to go for the-"

Lana's hand shot out. She hadn't even thought of it before Rusick's comments hit the comms but Rodney's eyes widened in very real surprise before she upended her sprite all over him.

"I hope you're very happy together."

Lana sniffed, then turned on her heel and stomped away. She passed the couple at the table nearby, the man went to toss Rodney a couple napkins when his wife slapped his hand.

"Oh don't you dare."

A couple of teens were watching her storm off, whispering and giggling over their phones. No one moved to follow her and she had to resist the overwhelming urge to look around, check to see if their guy had taken the bait. It crept like a shiver up the back of her neck, and she forcibly kept her head down, stayed in character.

"I got you, Milani, just keep going." Voight's voice was in her ear, rough and strangely calming. She folding her arms over her stomach and rushed out into the parking garage, away from the crowds.

She was nearing Rodney's car, swiping at her eyes and looking like she just wanted to get out of here when Voight spotted a man crossing the parking lot towards Lana. He started feeding details into his comms, far enough back to be out of notice. Tall, clean shaven. Late 40's. Approaching Milani with intent.

The man called out as he neared.

"Scuse me. Sorry to bother you. But you alright?"

Lani glanced up, blinking in surprise. His smile was wide and charming. Everything about him seemed easy going, and Lana felt her skin crawl.

"Y- yeah," she wiped at her cheeks, looking embarrassed. "Do I know you?"

"No, I just saw what happened back there." He placed a hand over his chest. "I'm sorry Mami, that wasn't right."

Lani shrugged a little like it didn't matter. "Well what are you gonna do."

She couldn't see Voight, or anyone from her team. For a second she wondered if she was really alone down here, with a man who may have murdered six women.

_I got you, Milani. Just keep moving._

It replayed in her mind, clear and firm, and Milani gave the man a small smile.

"It was kind of you to check on me."

And she turned her back to him.

Jay and Erin were in position, ducked behind cars ready to flank him on either side. Voight watched Milani give the man the opportunity he needed, and silently he began to move in.

She sensed the movement but let him grab her. An arm around the throat, a hand sickeningly warm against her mouth. His voice was in her ear, a wavering edge as his charming facade grew unsteady.

She knew it wasn't real, that she was getting them what they needed to take this monster down once and for all and find justice families had been waiting on for over a decade, but as he drug her feet backward across that pavement everything within her screamed to fight back. She swallowed it down. She couldn't jeopardize this case.

"I'm gonna make sure you're treated how you deserve."

Voight stuck his gun at the base of his skull. "You're gonna let her go."

The man snarled, in a way that felt inhuman and twisted hard, shoving Milani as he tried to run. He didn't make it two feet before Erin and Jay cut him off.

Milani stumbled, hands connecting with her shoulders as Voight stepped in to break her fall.

She was trembling, pent up adrenaline in a body that hadn't been allowed to act and their gazes locked. She felt the press of his fingertips on her arms, saw his lips part a fraction as he took a breath.

Voight was aware. Of his team cuffing their suspect against the pavement. Erin reading him his rights. The sounds of traffic outside on the streets. The sounds of quickened breath that matched the tremors beneath his hands.

She wasn't frightened. It wasn't fear burning in the back of her eye. She wanted to press, and give, and find a release for the aggression that pulsed beneath her skin. Her first time out doing the job she loved and she hadn't been allowed to _do_ anything.

Barely a moment had passed, not long enough for anyone to notice, but it was long enough for Voight to realize.

He hadn't known he wanted this.

She was so distant, so separate on the job what they did basically compartmentalized itself. He didn't know that he had been looking for this, to find it in her eye, an acknowledgment, a need for what he could give her.

They'd gone in with no strings, unattached so they would be unaffected, and it had worked for weeks. But as they stood in the middle of a blasted crime scene, just a half beat too long to be natural, he faced the ridiculous truth.

He wanted to affect her.

He wanted to look into her eye and catch that something looking back at him. The underlying tension that would not leave her gaze.

His comms crackled in his ear. "Hank, tell me we got him."

Olivia Benson's voice came through the channel, and just like that the fire in her eyes shuttered and died.

She stepped back, brushed herself off, and with one dark look at the man in cuffs, she walked away.


	7. Send

She had let herself get carried away. Hyped up from the capture, coming face to face with Voight, she had forgotten. Where she was. Who he was. What the hell it was she was supposed to be doing.

She knew better. This whole blasted time this had worked because she knew better.

Because she _hadn't_ known better. Seeing Olivia Benson at Voight's door had changed more than she wanted to admit.

It had been hours. Once in custody, they were able to identify the man. Reach in to recesses of his life and learn the hows, the _whys_.

It was still too sick to make sense.

His name was Renaldo Higuera. He worked as a consultant for a security firm. He traveled constantly, often under the name of the client company they were servicing. Virtually untraceable. His mother, Benson discovered, was a beautician that had been committed to a psych ward after multiple suicide attempts. His biological father was a white male who had assaulted his Hispanic mother. In his mind, he was helping the woman he took by getting them away from the men who hurt them.

It tied it all up in one disgusting bow.

Most cases they never got all the answers. They got enough for trial and let the court run its course but this one, she almost wished it hadn't come together so perfectly.

There was some things she wished she didn't have to know.

She was finishing inputting her report when Voight and Benson stepped out of his office. Benson smiled, and Lana fairly felt the relief coming off of her. She had a way about her that settled over the room. Voight's presence took sharp command. Benson's blanketed it. There was authority but there was warmth there too.

They made a perfectly balanced team.

And for one twisted second she wondered if Benson let Voight do what he wanted. If she saw that rough side of him, or if he poured it out in random strangers at a bar because he couldn't bring it home.

"Hey."

Lana looked up, surprised to find Rodney approaching her desk. He had changed out of the shirt she had soaked, into a casual button up that pulled out the blue of his eyes. Mussed brown hair held just the hint of red, and he grinned at her.

"You really went all out, huh. Just had to embarrass me like that?" he laughed, and Lana shrugged, switching off her computer as she stood.

"Well we needed to make a scene." She let a smile slip through, and he stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"So I was thinking," his thumbs waggled, "that maybe you should buy me a drink. Make it up to me."

Lana's brow cocked, "I'm fairly certain I already gave you a drink."

Olivia's quiet chuckle made her keenly aware of how close she and Voight were. That they were hearing every word.

The way she had stayed, pressed and staring against Voight flared to mind, and she shoved it aside with a rush of embarrassment. She straightened her spine, and slipped her bag over her shoulder.

"So I think you actually owe me one." Her eyes didn't flicker to Voight as she said it, they stayed fixed and friendly on the officer in front of her.

He smiled, eyes lighting in a way that made her want to laugh.

Voight watched them walk out together, and Olivia nudged his arm.

"I thought you liked Officer Rodney."

"Yeah, he seems like a fine officer."

"Then why are you scowling at him like that?" Olivia's fingers rested on her forearm as she folded her arms.

Voight's shoulders moved. "You know I don't like relationships at work."

Olivia's look said that was laughable. "Unless of course it's Erin. or Burgess."

Voight turned his scowl on her and she chuckled.

"Besides," she let her hands find her hips, relaxing against the edge of Lana's desk, "That isn't interoffice. Rodney doesn't work for you."

"Milani does." Voight countered, though he knew there wasn't an argument there, and Olivia ignored it.

"How's she doing here?"

Voight's brow bounced once at the unexpected question. "She does the job well. Seems to get along with everyone."

"So it's a good fit?"

Voight crossed his arms, "Yeah, I'd say so. Why?"

Olivia smiled. "I'm glad to hear it. A friend called my department, said they had an officer looking to transfer who could be a serious asset. I didn't have a place for her so I suggested here with you. It's good to see that it's working out."

Voight was just looking at her, shaking his head in a slow way that showed he wasn't even aware of it, before he laughed.

"You got Milani transferred here?" He laughed again, shoving his hands in his pockets, he rocked on his toes.

"Yeah, and after her performance today I'd say you owe me one. I was impressed."

Voight smirked a little, "Alright I owe you one. How 'bout I buy you a drink?"

Olivia shook her head with a smile, "I would, but I got to get some sleep. I fly out first thing. Besides," she touched his arm as she pushed off from the desk, "We don't want to give Ruzek anything more fuel for gossip."

Voight chuckled, and patted her hand on his arm. "Alright, I'll walk you out."

* * *

Lana leaned against the bar, half listening to Rodney's story. He was funny, she'd give him that. But there was something boyish about the way he grinned that she just couldn't shake. It might have been endearing, a sweet trait to a very attractive man, but she just wasn't feeling it.

She ordered one more drink, then let a yawn slip out.

"Sorry, I'm just worn out after today." She smiled sheepishly and he reacted immediately.

"Oh, of course. I've always been a late-nighter, I didn't realize the time."

He handed her her bag after she shrugged on her coat, offered to walk her home but she waved him off.

"No, stay, have another drink. I think you earned it."

He laughed, and held her gaze before she turned away.

"This was fun. We should do it again."

Lana smiled. It wasn't a yes. It wasn't a no. And she left the bar for the cold unsettling edge of night.

* * *

"Hey, so how'd it go with Lana last night," Ruzek caught Rodney as he came in the next morning, and he watched the officer shrug.

"I don't know, we were having a good time, then she just kind of left. It wasn't even that late."

"Huh," Ruzek went to respond, then caught sight of Voight behind them, his irritated look questioning why they were blocking the stairs.

"Well hey, try her again, see what she says," he slapped Rodney's arm and took the stairs, quickly scanning in and getting out of Voight's way.

Voight returned to his office, setting down the file he had been retrieving from Platt. He'd been here about an hour now, and Milani wasn't in yet. Shift hadn't technically started, but she was usually early. His first thought had gone straight to the officer who had walked her out yesterday.

She hadn't called, hadn't showed up at his door last night to burn off that energy he had collided with yesterday. He couldn't help but wonder if Rodney had helped with that. If they had stayed out late, gone home together. If she had stayed over and woken up in his shirt.

Over hearing Rodney, that had been a cold kind of comfort, and a distraction he didn't need.

* * *

Lana had overslept. Not difficult considering she hadn't fallen asleep until two a.m., but she was irritated beyond measure as she rushed up the office stairs. She was never this irresponsible.

She reached the top just as Antonio tried to come down them and a quick side step on his part avoided an awkward collision.

"Good morning," his chuckle was warm and she paused long enough to give him an embarrassed smile.

"Sorry. Running late."

Antonio glanced at his watch. "Nah, there's still a minute before shift, you got plenty of time."

He sent her a friendly wink before jogging down the stairs, and Lana caught her breath before stepping into the office.

Voight was standing by her desk. Back to her, he was saying something to Olinsky but she swallowed the flash of irritation and moved to her desk.

"Good morning, sir," she set her bag down and didn't really look up for a reply. Finding out about Benson had been a blessing in disguise. It was enough to snap her out of continuing this stupid game with Voight. She had let it go on long enough. She was here to focus on her work, be an impartial subordinate like she should have been from day one.

"Milani," Voight acknowledged her good morning, and stepped into his office to grab his file and bring them in on a new case.

It was business as usual, track down leads and feed intel to the team. She worked til five and clocked out with the others, nodded a goodbye to Voight as she passed by. A perfectly normal, professional day.

She walked home feeling strangely dissatisfied.

* * *

Voight looked up from his desks at the sound of someone arriving in the office. It was the third time this week Lana had come in early. She would drop her purse in the office, sometimes without even knowing he was there, hit the gym down stairs before cleaning up and clocking in. Clearly she had energy to burn, she just wasn't doing it with him, and he couldn't help but wonder why.

He had no claim on her, no actual right to care how she spent her time as long as it didn't affect her work. And it hadn't. She had been a text book employee all week, to the point Ruzek had joked that she'd been replaced with a robot. She was professionally pleasant and got her work done, but in some ways it was like she wasn't really there.

He wouldn't mind it, he usually respected officers who didn't bring their drama into the workplace, but the distance in her eyes had him continuously that much more on edge.

What he should be was pleased. He knew this had become a bad idea the night he decided he was done running to her for distraction. Not that that had stopped anything, she had still gotten under his skin. But he hadn't really expected her to stop coming to him. He figured maybe it hadn't been long enough, and she'd show up after a particularly hard shift and put them right back where they started. But somehow he knew that wasn't going to happen. Something had changed.

And he didn't have a blasted idea what it was.

She was back from the gym, fifteen minutes before shift and he stepped out of the office and caught her searching her bag with a frustrated growl. She set it down when she saw him, hands meeting her desk with a dejected sigh.

"I forgot my coffee."

"You usually keep it in your purse?" His tone was wry and she sent him a look.

"I used a thermos this morning, I was hoping maybe I tossed it in here, but I know I left it on my counter."

She dropped into her chair, hands gesturing in agitation, "I can see it, right by my toaster. I set it down to grab my phone and never picked it back up."

"Hmm," Voight hummed a little, before moving into the break room. Lana was still muttering. He hadn't seen her this talkative in well, ever. But when he set a fresh cup of coffee on her desk she stopped talking.

She looked up at him in surprise, and he shrugged a little. "I had a pot on."

"Oh, thanks." Her words were just a fraction drawn out like she didn't know how to take this. And Voight's gaze switched over her expression for a searching moment.

"You alright, Milani?" She seemed flustered, and the unexpected question didn't help.

"Yes sir," she answered automatically. Her phone buzzed and her gaze dropped to it, like she knew who was messaging her and it put something in her eye. A defensive edge like the last thing she wanted to do was answer it in front of him.

Voight hummed a little. "Enjoy the coffee." And he left her to whoever was on the other end of that phone.

* * *

Lana read the text preview, hit clear without bothering to open the text. It was the last thing she had expected last night. The last thing she wanted to deal with this morning.

An out of the blue text from her old partner.

Just a _hey how you been_

A _hey just checking in_

But she didn't know what to say. She couldn't ignore him forever, and yeah, part of her wanted to talk to him. But part of her wanted to turn off her phone and pretend it never happened.

Her gaze went to the closed office door to her right

She was good at pretending things like that.

Getting started on a report, she didn't stop until shift was in full swing. Then Erin plopped on the corner of her desk and asked her for a favor.

Burgess had asked her on a girl's night and Erin wasn't up for the whole shebang. Kim was nice but some of the officers she hung with were really talkative and Erin got exhausted just thinking about it.

"It'll be fun, you should come. Get to know them a little better and you can be my buffer."

"oh, I don't know..." Lana hesitated, and Erin nudged her arm.

"First round's on me."

Lana laughed. "Alright. I'll come for a little while."

Erin smiled her thanks as she hopped off the desk and strolled away. Lana just shook her head. She liked Erin well enough, and maybe she could use a girl's night.

They made plans to meet up at six, which gave Lana enough time after work to run home and change. She was tempted just to wear what she had worn to the office, but business casual didn't really scream 'I'm here to have fun."

She stepped into Molly's, looking around for Erin or Burgess. It was a full night, and she saw more than a few officers she had seen at the precinct.

"Daaaaag girl. I almost didn't recognize you," Erin came up from the side, she put a drink in Lana's hand and looked her over with a nod. "Oh you're gonna have some fun tonight, come on."

Her green halter top shimmered just enough to catch the eye, outlined a narrow waist and hips she couldn't get rid of no matter how hard she tried, but of all the eyes on her, no one was complaining.

She'd left her hair down, barely bothered to run a brush through it, and it held a wild kind of wave that framed the way she walked. Lana was exactly the kind of knockout Erin liked having by her side. She didn't like being the center of attention, and with Milani looking like she did right now, that wasn't going to happen. But she liked the edge of the spot light; she could hold her own there. They joined the rest of the girls at the bar, and as Burgess threw back a shot, Erin was suddenly glad she had come.

Kim introduced the other girls, a Katie and Alicia that Lana didn't remember seeing before but that wasn't too surprising. They'd come for a good time and they weren't afraid to have it, much to the enjoyment of a table of firemen nearby.

Alicia caught sight of a cute blonde one, apparently going steady with Antonio's sister, and when Erin ducked into the restroom, she leaned in.

"That's him, right? He's the reason your boss doesn't come here?"

Lana looked over at the fireman, not understanding. "You mean Voight? He doesn't come here?"

Burgess interrupted Alicia before she could get too deep into gossip.

"Yeah. Voight stays away from here ever since Casey helped send him to prison."

Lana was still hearing the sounds of the bar around her, but they weren't registering.

"Voight... prison?"

Burgess shook her head, "I really shouldn't be surprised you don't know that, but I am."

"For _what_?" Lana couldn't not react to that information, and Erin suddenly spoke from behind her.

"Ask Antonio," her husky voice held a tone that quickly closed the conversation. "He made the arrest." She reclaimed her seat and flagged down the bartender for another drink like nothing had happened. Alicia gave an 'oh well' shrug and downed another shot.

Lana held her glass but didn't drink. She was processing.

Voight. In prison.

_Why_

"Hey ladies, mind if we join?" Rodney sent the group a charming smile as he approached, Jay giving a small wave from behind the man, and Erin hopped off her stool.

"Well this is _supposed_ to be a girl's night," she said as she slipped her arms around Jay's neck, "But I think we can make an exception."

Rodney claimed the stool she had vacated and sent Lana a sidelong glance.

"You look great." Direct and clearly flirtatious, and Lana blinked before responding.

"Thanks," she shook it off, took a sip of her drink, and leaned in a little. She had come here to relax and have fun. No way was she losing sight of that.

* * *

She almost let him walk her home. It was nice of him to ask and it would have given her an excuse not to look at her phone that much longer, but then she pictured him at her door, saying goodnight, smile bright and warm in the dark and she shook her head.

She stepped out of the bar and finally checked her phone.

_Look Lani, we need to talk._

Her head fell back as she stared up into a dark sky, high above the street lights. She pulled in cool night air on a long breath.

Then looking down, she finally typed out a reply.

She never hit send.


	8. Tepid

"Yo, check this out," Rodney pulled out his phone, showing Ruzek a photo from last night. Alicia had asked for a picture with Erin and Burgess, but it was Lana, up against the bar in the background of the photo that had their attention.

Rodney zoomed in. "And I thought she was pretty at work. Dude she looked incredible."

Ruzek went to respond when Voight's voice sounded behind them.

"She know you took that photo?"

Ruzek jumped as Rodney looked up, embarrassed. 

"Of course sir. The girls asked for the photo. Erin even posed for it."

They all knew how protective he was of Erin. It didn't even occur to them that he was talking about Lana. 

Voight grunted a little, like finishing the conversation wasn't worth his time and passed by them. 

"Why does that keep happening." Ruzek hissed, letting out a less than attractive squeak when Platt spoke directly in his ear.

"Because you morons keep stopping on the stairs. Now are you gonna get out of the way, I have work to do."

Rodney ducked out without much more than a see you, and Ruzek sheepishly turned forward. 

"Here, let me get that for you." He opened the gate, and waved Platt by.

"Just so you can watch me walk up those stairs, I don't think so." She grabbed the gate and motioned him forward. "After you."

Platt waved Voight down, and pulled him to the side. Lana watched the conversation with interest. She liked the desk sergeant. She was a little rough, couldn't always tell when she was joking, but she was a solid officer. 

A minute later Voight nodded goodbye to Platt and crossed back into the office.

"Milani. You're with me."

He didn't explain and he didn't wait for her to ask. Lana snatched up her coat, trying to catch up as Voight was already walking away. 

"Platt wants us to check out a tech firm," He didn't speak until he was unlocking his car, then he eyed her over the top of the vehicle. "I figured I might need your help."

Milani slipped inside the car, wondering what on earth Sergeant Platt needed investigated at a tech firm, but she didn't ask. Lana figured Voight would fill her in on what she needed to know. 

He was good at that, giving out necessary information. Even better at keeping the unnecessary information hidden so deep you would never find it. 

She cleared her throat as he pulled out into the morning traffic. 

"Erin and I went out last night."

It was a casual enough start to a conversation, except they didn't usually do small talk. 

"It was fun, actually," Lana continued at his silence. "We went to a blue bar, called Molly's?"

Voight grunted in response. She was fishing for something and he wasn't biting. The image of her in that photo, leaned back against that bar in a top that fit her in all the right ways blazed through his mind. 

Lana stared at Voight's profile. His lips had lifted in a tight little smile and she had no idea why. She was trying to find a way to bring up what she had learned about him, and she was getting nothing. 

"While we were there we saw some-"

"Are you going to get to the point, Milani?" Voight interrupted, and that touch of a smile was still on his lips as he glanced her way.

She almost didn't want to do it. He looked so strangely relaxed that she didn't want to interrupt that. But she was in it now and she didn't want to lose her chance to ask. 

"They said you don't go to that bar."

Voight sobered, turning back to the road in front of them. "I don't."

It was strange how quickly his face could turn cold.

"Why not."

He didn't answer, not at first. He flicked on his blinker and made a turn. Slid his hands along the wheel as he readjusted his grip. 

"Seems like you know why." 

Lana frowned, "So it's true. You were in prison."

His face held a bitter kind of sarcasm as he scoffed.

"You been at this job how long and you're just learning this?"

"I don't do gossip." Lana answered immediately. She was pulled into this conversation with a depth of curiosity she hadn't been expecting but she wanted to _know_. 

He chuckled once but there wasn't humor anywhere in it. 

"I did time. I made a deal to lead intelligence, and I got out."

"Deal with who?"

Voight swallowed a curse. He had told his team before. The only reason she wasn't hip deep in all the sordid rumors that followed his career was she didn't bother to pay attention to them. 

But having her ask him. Directly. Having to be the one to say it. He almost preferred she had listened to the office gossip even if half of it wasn't true. 

"IA." he admitted, "But I _never_ reported on a fellow officer. I bring in information off of the streets."

Lana was absorbing the information, sifting through it. Her brow furrowed. "Information you get by..."

And Voight had to face the point of it all. Admit simple fact to the first officer he had ever worked with that hadn't just _known_. Who didn't come at him with that wary look in their eye like they had to protect themselves against his own reputation. 

Well it was nice while it lasted. He knew how he did his job, and he knew others didn't like it. Yeah, there were things he regretted but so many of them he didn't. The work got done. People got saved, and the ones that did the hurting got put away. 

He knew how he did this job. And that's why he had to do it alone. 

He answered Lana's question. "Being dirty."

There was an edge to his voice that had Lana looking at him, really looking. 

His grip was knuckle white on the wheel, face set in hard, forcible lines. It reminded her, of the night she had met him in that bar. All cold shadows and angry touch. 

He'd gone to prison for being a dirty cop. She had seen how he operated, the laws he stretched, but hadn't imagined it had gotten that bad. There was probably more to it. Whatever he had done, however he was mixed up with that fire fighter, she didn't know.

And she didn't want to ask. 

He came to a stop outside a building. Put the car in park and didn't glance her way. His hand was on the door handle when Lana finally spoke.

"I'm sorry."

He froze, brow dipping in utter confusion and he couldn't help but look at her.

"You were a cop. In prison. That must have been hard."

Simple words that barely expressed anything. Milani wasn't stupid, she knew the kind of things that happened to officers in prison. Dirty or not he had put people away, people he probably was locked inside with. 

It was all she could think of in that moment. The terrible things he must have gone through just to survive.

Voight's expression had halted, perplexed and unchanging. Then he cleared his throat."You do what you have to do."

Lana searched his gaze, calm and completely closed off, and she held back a sigh. "Thank you. For answering my questions."

Voight shook his head like now she was just wasting time, "Are you going to get out of the car."

"Alright, alright," Lana held her hands up and opened the door, stepping out into the Chicago wind. 

They saw the receptionist inside, showed their badges when asked if they had an appointment. They weren't left waiting long. 

Voight never really explained what she was there for. He left her in the hall when he went in to talk with the guy. Apparently he didn't need her because he finished the interview without her. 

"Are you going to tell me what that was about?" she asked as she clicked on her seatbelt, and Voight turned the key. 

"Favor for Platt." 

No part of her expected him to continue his explanation, but as he pulled out on the street, he surprised her. "A friend thinks her spouse is cheating. Trudy would have gone but the husband knows her."

A laugh broke from Lana in surprise. "Seriously?"

Voight smiled a little. "A word of advice. If Platt asks you a favor, do it. She's a good one to have on your side and a bad one to have against you."

Lana agreed, but she couldn't help but wonder if Voight was aware of how well he had just described himself. 

Being backed by an unstoppable force was a whole lot different than going toe to toe with one. 

Voight was action, rough and not always clean cut. Not always predictable. 

Like now. All trace of his earlier tension was gone. His hold on the wheel was easy, expression relaxed as he navigated busy streets. He didn't look happy, per se. His frown lines had settled too deeply for that. But he just looked... different.

Lana turned her face to the window, watched the city as it passed. Silence held in a oddly comfortable way. Her phone was on silent, and she didn't think about the text, her partner, or finding a woman on Voight's doorstep. 

For the first time in days, nothing pressed on her thoughts. Voight drove as she stared out the window and they reached the precinct too soon. 

"So why did you need me exactly?" Lana asked and Voight's shoulder lifted as he turned into the garage. 

"Didn't know how many circles they'd talk me in trying to get in there. You may have been useful."

She smirked some at that. Useful. It could have sounded condescending, but the truth was, she liked being useful. 

He set the car in park and his chest expanded as he breathed. She practically watched it settle back over him. That weight. 

It was funny, you could see the dread in some people as they walked towards work. Every subtle body cue screaming "I don't want to be here."

She used to feel that way in highschool. Think of a thousand different scenarios as she walked to her bus that would result in class being cancelled for the day. Power outage. Burst water main. An unmanned aircraft crashing into the building resulting in complete destruction of the structure but miraculously no loss of life. 

She knew what it looked like when you hated the thought of going where you had to go. 

And this wasn't it. Voight loved his job. Lived for it. A man didn't put that much devotion into something if he didn't. But he wore it, the responsibility, the uncertainty. People's lives rested on his shoulders and she could see them setting in place again. This little break, a personal errand for Platt, was over. And it was back to work for him. 

For the both of them. Lana got out of the car before he could accuse her of wasting time. He held the door for her as the reentered the building, walked the hall beside her. His hand touched her shoulder before he stepped away to speak to Platt. 

It wasn't anything, brief casual touch but as she took the stairs up to Intelligence she did it was a tiny, thoughtful frown. 

* * *

_I'm sorry._

Hours later and he couldn't get it out of his head. He had laid out the truth to a subordinate who should have lost all respect for him in an instant and instead he had gotten that. 

I'm sorry. 

He didn't talk about it much, with the team or anyone. and they didn't ask. It was like his time in prison was a black spot they would all rather ignore. They didn't much consider what it had been like for him. 

He didn't blame them, it wasn't their jobs. He looked out for his team, they weren't obligated to do it back. 

Now Erin, the kid cared but she was angry at him. Didn't like the stupid things he had done, the deal he had made with IA. She had an odd habit of expecting the worst of him yet still acting like he should know better. Maybe she had learned that from him, all those years of watching him with Justin. The stupid mistakes that kid made, time and again. So angry and lost he couldn't seem to get anything right and Voight just hadn't known what to do with him. What to be with him. 

Maybe he wasted time. Being tough. Buried in work because he couldn't face an empty house. If he had figured it out first, been the dad his son needed maybe Justin wouldn't have ended up, ended up- 

Voight pushed to his feet, crossed to the closed office door and laid his head against the smooth wood. 

They all cared that he lost his son. His team, the captain. Milani, in that fractured moment she had met him with those tears in her eyes. Even Lieutenant Casey had shaken his hand and told him he was sorry. Casey was a good man. Hell so was Antonio. And he had made their lives a living hell just to save his son from the consequences of his own actions. Truth was he had been crossing lines in the job for so long, he hadn't realized he started doing it in his own life until it was too late. 

Maybe that's why no one cared about what he faced in prison. Because deep down they recognized that he deserved it. 

But Lana. Minutes after learning her superior officer had been jailed for being a dirty cop, all she had focused on was what it must have been like for him on the inside. 

He didn't get it. 

Couldn't quite get past it. 

Part of him didn't want to.

* * *

Lana couldn't focus. It didn't help that there wasn't much to focus on. Some of the officers were out on routine follow-ups. Voight was in his office. She didn't know what he was working on.

Attwater grew distracted by a sound, a rapid taptaptapping that had him hunting down whatever was doing it so he could break it, or do whatever it took just to get it to stop. His thoughts changed when he saw the pen in Lana's hand, ticking against the desk. Maybe not break it, ask it nicely to stop. 

"Hey Lana, could you... not?"

Lana looked up, tracking his gaze to her bouncing pen and stilled abruptly. "I'm so sorry. I didn't realize I was doing that. Must have been annoying." She gave an embarrassed laugh as she dropped the pen, and Attwater chuckled. 

"A bit. What's got you all worked up?"

"Oh," Lana waved it off and stood, "too much caffeine probably. I didn't expect it to be so slow today."

"Yeah," Attwater threaded his hands behind his head and leaned back from the folder he had been reviewing. "Days like this are rare. I learned to appreciate them." 

Lana smiled at him, stretching out a kink in her back before ducking in to the break room. Shift ended in an hour and it felt like she hadn't gotten a thing done. That was the thing about behind-the-scenes type of work. Days could be spent on necessary work that wouldn't feel nearly as productive as a single take down. It was the truth of the job, and she had always figured that what happened in the office was just as important as what went on on the street. Both helped keep the city a safer place. 

But knowing she was stuck here, that she would never get to be back out there, it was enough to drive her insane sometimes. It wasn't that she solely missed the action, she missed the balance of it all. 

She missed a lot of things. Her partner texting her had her thinking of home more than she wanted. The sunshine, the white line of the coast against the push of waves. That heavy sea air that got moved on the breeze. She had just about had enough of cold dead rain.

Her iced tea was luke warm since she had forgotten to put it back in the fridge and she scowled at it. 

Since when had she become such a miserable person? Everything felt off lately and she didn't like what it was doing to her. She never thought she was the type to complain and she didn't like finding out she was wrong. 

A figure passed by the open door, and Lana set her iced tea down in a hurry. 

"Voight." 

He backed up, and stuck his head in. "You need something?" 

The light from the window behind her caught his eyes, pulled out that ring of warm brown against the dark. He was looking at her expectantly, and Lana cleared his throat. 

"So was he? The guy, This morning I mean." The words felt stupid coming out of her mouth, and his head turned in confusion. 

"what, cheating?"

Lana shrugged, "Yeah."

He was looking at her, smile building like he couldn't believe she was asking hours later, and then he laughed. The sunlight caught that too.

He folded his arms, body dropping into a more relaxed position, "No," he shook his head, "Turns out he's planning a surprise vacation for their 20th anniversary. That's why he's been so secretive."

"Wow," that wasn't the outcome she was expecting. "I guess Platt's friend is gonna feel bad, doubting him for no reason."

Voight shrugged, "Maybe. Sometimes what we trust doesn't have much to do with the other person."

"Yeah, I guess that's true."

He watched her a second longer, before stepping back. 

"I'm headed out. Won't be back by end of shift. You have a good night, Milani."

He nodded a goodbye and she returned it a moment too late, he had already walked away. She snatched up her tepid iced tea, and left the breakroom, ready to finish up her day and head home.


	9. Dismissing

Voight took the stairs up to intelligence, didn't bother switching on the light as he walked through the quiet office. Light from a barely risen sun had begun to slant through the windows, stretching out along the floor. He passed Lana's desk, and paused. Her bag was on top of it. Either she had forgotten it yesterday or Milani was already here.

His office was almost completely dark, the window at the back not facing the sun, and he flicked his light on. There was a couple of things he could get a jump on, sort out what his team would need for they day so they could hit the ground running.

But instead, Voight flicked the light off again.

He took the stairs back down through the precinct and entered the gym at the end of the hall.

A couple officers had claimed some of the treadmills, one leaving shift and one just coming on. The syncopated rhythm of their footsteps echoed slightly in the large room.

Milani wasn't on any of the equipment, and he stood for a moment, questioning what he was even doing here. There was work to do upstairs. He was wasting time.

The rhythmic thump of someone hitting the heavy bag reached him just as he had convinced himself to walk away.

She was at the back, around the corner next to the sparring area. She was moving, left and right jabs more quick than powerful, working on her cardio. From what he could see, she wasn't favoring her right hand at all. A damp tanktop clung to the curve of her back, dull grey leggings hugging her calves.

Her rapid fire punches barely stuttered when she spotted him. She wasn't on the clock, if he needed her for something, he could wait. There wasn't much she was willing to let interrupt a good work out.

Finishing up her final set, Lana stepped back, chest expanding with heavy breaths. Hair had fallen free of her pony tail, slick with sweat against her neck, her cheeks high with color.

"You look good," Voight's voice rumbled with its usual gravel, and Lana's eyes shot to his as she unwrapped her hands. "Your form," he continued an intentional moment later, and she caught the slight smirk.

"Thanks," she acknowledged his comment just enough, and took a drag from her water bottle.

"This what you do every morning?" Voight asked, nodding to the bag as Lana gathered her stuff.

"No," she slung the strap of her bag over her shoulder, "Sometimes I just run. But I guess I felt like hitting something today." There was a smile as she said it, but it didn't fully take the edge off.

Maybe he should find ways to get her out of the office more. She was a good officer, and could probably use the break.

"You hit the gym like this at your old precinct?"

She hummed around her drink as she took another sip. "Sometimes, usually I just ran the beach."

"We don't have much of that around here," Voight answered dryly. "You miss it?"

She seemed to really consider his question. "You know, I didn't at first. I was prepared for it all to be so different I guess I didn't even think about missing that kind of stuff. But I've been thinking about it lately, yeah."

Her smile was softer now, thoughtful. A fondness to it that he didn't often get to see.

"Ah, thought I'd find you here." They both looked up as Platt found them, and she spared Voight a look, "Although you're a bit of a surprise. Milani," she faced down the woman, "I got of group of girls coming in today for a self defense class. Part of a community outreach initiative. I need a teacher."

Lani went to respond, but Platt kept talking.

"Now, that is just sweet of you to volunteer."

Lana blinked, gaze sliding to Voight and she remembered his advice. Trudy was a good one to do a favor for. She smiled.

"Glad to help."

Platt hummed a little at the sardonic edge to her voice. "Class starts at 3. You'll need a couple partners. I got that Rodney on board, the one that won't shut up about you. I'm sure he would love to take you to the mat. You'll have to find someone else too."

"I'll do it."

Platt looked like she had forgotten Voight was there, and now she sent him a high browed scowl. "Very funny."

Voight folded his arms. "Captain is always on me for Intelligence to give more back to the community. This will keep her happy for a while."

Platt raised her hands like she didn't care anymore. "Hey, whatever gets it done. Be back here at three."

They promised they would be, and Platt walked away.

* * *

Lana showered, water hot as she could get it, beating into her skin. She didn't have long. Voight had interrupted her routine. Then Platt had dropped a self defense class in her lap. It wasn't exactly the morning she had had planned. Still she made it upstairs before shift began, was working at her desk when Antonio came in.

"Judge should have that warrant for you in about an hour," She spoke as he entered, and he detoured to her.

"Oh that's great," he tapped his knuckles on her desk. "Thanks Lana."

Antonio caught Olinsky and Attwater coming up the stairs, headed out with him to get into place for when the warrant came through. A moment later Voight and Erin took another call and Lana was left quite alone in the empty office with nothing but her thoughts and a pile of folders to stare back at her.

* * *

Voight caught the door as it closed behind Erin, checking his watch as he did so. 2:52. The call had taken much longer than he had expected and he never liked running behind.

"Head upstairs, fill in Antonio or Olinsky, and wrap this up for me. I got something to take care of."

Erin wasn't in one of her moods for once, and she didn't question him, she just jogged up the steps while Voight detoured towards the gym.

He heard Rodney before he saw them, laughing at something a little too loudly. He rounded the corner and caught them stretching, Rodney's gaze fixed on every move as Lana leaned into a back-bend.

She didn't seem to be aware, of how her shirt rode up on her flush hip and Rodney's gaze zeroed in on that sliver of bronze skin. How the slight line of her abs was visible against her shirt. Her head was back, her eyes were closed in the stretch, and Voight cleared his throat.

Rodney snapped to attention like a kid being caught in the act. "Oh, sir. Hello. Are you, will you be joining us today?"

Lana finished her stretch, rolled her shoulders back and opened her eyes, completely unperturbed by the mild embarrassment in Rodney's voice.

"It's almost three. We should head in."

Rodney led the way at her nod, and she fell in to step beside Voight. "Rodney and I will go through some demonstrations if you wouldn't mind keeping an eye on the students, seeing who might need some extra pointers."

Voight more relented than actually agreed. Lana wasn't entirely sure why he had volunteered to do this, no part of him seemed to actually want to be here. Satisfying the captain didn't really seem like a good enough reason. But he followed her down the hall without comment, pulled the door open and ushered her through it with a light hand to the small of her back. A touch barely there but she felt it through the cotton of her shirt, that unexpected press of fingertips.

She faced the gathered girls with a bright smile, introducing herself and her helpers. Some looked ready, almost too confident, some shy. Rodney set them at ease fairly well. He was funny and engaging and was a helpful energy to feed off of.

Voight walked the back wall, watching her, watching the students. Not commenting. Not involving himself at all.

There were a few basic tips she wanted to go through, what to look out for in a potential threat. Ways to be more prepared. A dozen faces watched her, listened. A group of teens paying attention as she talked because they knew they might need to know what she was saying.

It was sobering, a little heart breaking if she let it. They did their best to keep the streets safe but it was never truly enough. Or girls like these wouldn't have to show up after school just to make sure they were that much safer when they walked home.

They started in on demonstrations, how to fend off an attacker, spot them at a distance and get away. Rodney went through the motions with her, but she found herself growing frustrated. He made jokes. Came at her without any real force. She knew it was all just a demonstration but it started to feel like he wasn't taking this seriously. She couldn't show these girls anything real with what he was giving her.

It was interesting to watch, the way the girls separated so naturally. Outgoing girls pushed to the front, trying out the steps and working with eachother. Uncertain, even clumsy attempts filled the back row. One girl caught Lana's attention, straight blond hair hung against a too thin frame, face stayed focus on the matted floor. Hands were fisted like she wanted to try but she just didn't know how.

About to approach the girl, Lana saw Voight moving up from the back, caught his nod and she held off, let him step in.

He introduced himself still several feet away from the girl. Like he knew he could have startled her. Lana watched that flash of uncertain interest when Voight offered to walk her through a few things.

A couple of the girls on the end had drifted towards where Voight was teaching the girl. She hadn't seen it in him before, that firm but gentle way about him. Careful, that's what it was. Respectful of these girls and what they wanted to achieve.

Her attention was pulled away by the sound of sudden laughter. Some of the girls in the front had started goofing off, messing around with Rodney.

"I guess you guys are done practicing?" Lana joined Rodney at the front, and he nudged her arm.

"Oh, they've got it down," he waved a hand at the girls, and one of them cocked a hip.

"Yeah, just wait til a guy tries and messes with me."

Lana told herself to smile. Confidence was good, seeing how certain they were of themselves was something she wished she saw in every teenager, but it could be as dangerous as being completely unprepared.

"Well, practice those moves at home, and we will work on some more tomorrow."

They wrapped up the class, waved goodbye to the girls, and Rodney came to stand beside her.

"I was gonna grab a drink after shift, care to join?"

Lana wasn't in the mood for anymore fun today, but she also didn't have the patience to turn him down without an outright refusal. So she looked at Voight, a what-do-you-say? expression like she had naturally assumed Rodney's invitation was for both of them.

She wasn't quite sure how he managed it, looking completely disinterested and yet slightly amused.

"I could use a drink," he slipped his hands in his pockets, and they both turned to Rodney.

"Oh," Rodney gave an awkward chuckle, "Well I was thinking of going to Molly's..." the way he drug out the name, the way his hand smoothed the hair at the back of his head self consciously said he knew what Voight's deal was with that bar and he wasn't quite sure what to do about it.

"Hm, well some other time then," Lana slapped his shoulder, caught Voight's eye as she turned away. That knowing look like he had seen her ploy and played it for her, it made her smile.

* * *

She ate dinner alone, left over lasagna she had thrown together yesterday. She felt good, in maybe a lazy kind of way. There was an old Spanish movie on, she had seen it a dozen of times but it reminded her off her grandmother and she let it play. Her phone stayed quiet. She hadn't heard from her partner in a couple days, and she found herself forgetting to worry that another text from him might come through.

She fell asleep on the couch. Woke early and instantly regretted it. Her back was stiff from the awkward angle and her neck felt like turning it would seriously injure something. She stood with a groan, tossed aside the hoodie she had slept with, and shuffled into the bathroom to brush last night's lasagna off her teeth.

After ensuring a pot of coffee was on, Lana settled on her livingroom floor, let her head drop forward and felt the stretch pull tight all along her back. She stretched tall, expanding, breathing. Body relaxing. Thoughts filtered through her slowly waking mind. What she would teach in class today. Seeing Voight work with those girls, that hand at the small of her back... she shook it out. Focused. Wondered what work would hold, if they would catch a difficult case, if Voight's time in prison still haunted him.

The scent of coffee filtered through the grey light of her living room, and she got her feet under her and straightened her legs, let her hands rest against the floor. She had to remember her coffee this morning. She would be a zombie with out it.

The memory of Voight setting coffee on her desk filled her mind for absolutely no discernable reason. With a sharp inhale she pushed herself up and shook out her hands. It was time to start her day. Enough of this.

* * *

Voight came through the office around ten, and Erin glanced up as he strode by, pen scratching on the incident report she owed him from two days ago.

He crossed by the breakroom, spotted Lana by the coffee pot, her hand against her neck as she pressed her chin to the right and he paused.

"You alright, Milani?"

He eyes popped open, "Yeah." She cleared her throat, "Yes sir. Just slept a little funny last night."

Voight regarded her with a wry glint in his eye, "I thought maybe Rodney just worked you a little too hard yesterday."

The look she sent him very clearly spelled out all of the words it wasn't appropriate to launch at a superior officer, and Voight coughed back a laugh.

"Look I got a run to make, could use another set of eyes."

Erin heard him and set her pen down in a hurry, but Voight pointed a finger at her without even looking, "Finish that report, Erin."

They both heard Erin mutter to herself and Voight half way rolled his eyes. He pushed off of the door jam, "You in or out, Milani."

"In, sir," she wasn't going to turn down a shot to get out of the office for a while. She snagged one last sip of her coffee before grabbing her bag from her desk and following Voight down the stairs.

"What's the run?" She asked, zipping in to her jacket, and Voight glanced back at her before opening the door for her.

"I gotta meet someone. A CI. He's not exactly principled and I might need the backup."

"I don't have a weapon," she reminded him once they were on the road, but he didn't look too concerned.

"You got eyes. Another officer on scene is enough to keep him from doing anything stupid."

She didn't respond to that, sat back in the seat a little as he drove.

He pulled under an overpass and put the car in park. There wasn't anyone around, and Voight undid his seatbelt. "He's not exactly punctual either."

It was quiet, far enough off the highway that the sounds of traffic had dimmed, far enough out of the way that people weren't passing by. It was a decent spot to meet and stay out of sight.

"This CI," Lana asked after a minute, "is he part of your deal with IA?"

She saw Voight look at her in her peripherals but didn't turn her head. She wasn't being accusing, she was curious.

"You mean does he think I'm dirty?"

Lana's response was a simple nod and he grunted a little.

"I'm on his payroll."

Lana looked at him then, to see if he was joking, and she pursed her lips at his completely sincere expression.

"Well that's effective."

He scoffed at her tone. "Keep an eye out, would ya?" Reaching forward he flipped open the center console and pulled out a bag from a drugstore. She was more than surprised to see him tug a card from it, a little blue truck with a balloon tied to its mirror embossed on the front.

"Is that a birthday card?" she asked, redirecting her attention out the window in case the CI showed up.

Voight was rooting around for a pen, but stopped at her question.

"Yeah," he closed the card, and looked at the front of it. "It's for my grandson."

Her eyes skitted to him in surprise. "...you have a grandson?"

"Yeah," he chuckled some. "He's a great kid. Looks like his mom. Looks like Justin too, though. When he's getting in trouble, his forehead scrunches up the same way. Kid looks so serious."

Her eyes were still on their surroundings, but she could hear it, the smile in his voice. A _grandson_. She would have never had guessed.

"Do you see him often?"

A beat of silence, she was tempted to look at him, but she stayed focus. The sun light fell behind a cloud. The shadows under the overpass deepened. A cool kind of seclusion seemed to fill the space.

"No. His mother moved. It was too hard, staying here with all the memories. And she's right. I mean, I see Justin everywhere. I keep waiting for it to stop. Same time I'm worried, that I'll look at a place that he used to be, and it won't hold him anymore."

She got the distinct impression that he hadn't meant to say so much. That if she looked at him now, reacted in anyway he'd shut down beneath those impenetrable lines. She cleared her throat.

"What happened? To your son?"

Voight's fingers played with the card in his hands. He let Milani watch the surroundings, let himself talk. Tell the one person who didn't just automatically know. He didn't often get to choose, what people judged him for, what they saw him as.

"He was shot. For helping a friend. It's funny, I used to worry myself sick that I'd get a call that he was killed doing something stupid. There were nights I would lie awake waiting for it.

"Things changed though. He changed. Maybe it just took getting away from me but he grew into a good man, a solid one. The one I always knew he could be. In the end that's what got him killed, just helping a friend out of a bad situation..."

The way he was talking, more to the air than to her.

He didn't have the energy to fill them with emotion, remorse. They were simple. Hollow.

Lana felt every word.

"...I'm proud. Course I am. I was always proud of that boy. But I wonder if he knew that. If some part of him could have believed that I would rather have a dead son I could be proud of than a boy I had to worry about."

He glanced at her then, saw the tight line of her jaw, eyes roaming their surroundings. Absorbing, processing. Her chin moved, turning her face so he wouldn't fully catch the single tear that slipped and fell. So calm yet so affected. She was distant but it was obvious she had a heart, that she cared about people. That she was full of emotion that she never let rule her.

Voight didn't always know how to do that, how to feel that much and still be in control. His temper, his anger, he could keep them in check but there were times he didn't want to. He had learned to use them. In his job. In his life. To choose when he let it out. How he let it out.

Milani wasn't like that, it wasn't all or nothing with her. Sometimes it seemed like that's what she was trying to be, a volcano under ice, frigid until it exploded. It was obvious she was running from something, he had felt it in the desperate energy of her body as it slipped against his. Sometimes she just wanted an out.

But she wasn't completely cold. She had tried. She had said she was sorry about Justin before and he had shut her down forcibly. Hadn't wanted to hear it then and she wasn't going to make the mistake of saying it now.

Voight cleared his throat. "You really ought to start listening to gossip, Milani." The forced casualness in his voice had her sitting up straighter, expression smoothing. "It'll save me the trouble of seeing that look on her face."

"What look," she whipped her attention to him, immediately defensive, and Voight's lips curled up in a wry smile.

"When you catch another detail you didn't know, file it away," he tapped his temple twice, didn't voice the end of his thought. Maybe she was just storing up more reasons to stay away from him.

There was movement in his peripherals, and Voight reached fro the door handle.

"Stay here, this won't take long."

* * *

Lana watched, glad for the distraction. The covert conversation, the money that was slipped seamlessly between them. Voight was playing a role that he maybe knew a little too well.

She worked for a dirty cop.

A dirty cop who had lost his son, didn't get to see his grandson. Was so isolated and alone he couldn't stand it when someone bothered to care about what he had gone through.

How could she not care? Anyone who heard _half_ of what she just had would care.

But he didn't want to hear it, to have her say she was sorry for his loss. That much was obvious.

Or maybe it was just other people that got to care. Maybe Olivia Benson got to hold him, feel him hurting and smooth it away. Maybe Lana was just overstepping her bounds. He had used her as a release and he wasn't interested in anything else she had to give.

That's what she had wanted. Hell it was exactly what she had used him for. But it bothered her. The more she learned about Sergeant Voight the more confused she became. On paper, he was a mistake. Too reckless, too independent and too willing to break the rules. He lived by an old code that didn't always match with today's justice system and he broke the laws she swore to uphold. He wasn't a _good_ cop. She wasn't even sure he was a good man. If she did start to listen, to those stupid whispers in the precinct hall, what would she hear? How many stained secrets could one man have, and still be so... right.

Right for the job, for the team he led. He filled an imperfect gap in the system and he did it without apology or seemingly no remorse. He fit. Into his role, into what he needed to. Somehow he fit into what other people needed him to be.

He had fit what _she_ needed, in every aching way.

She watched him step away from his CI, stroll back to the car completely unperturbed. He got behind the wheel and set the card in the cup holder. The air was empty, she didn't have anything to fill it with and she let the drive pass in silence.

They had reached the stairs to intelligence when Voight spoke.

"Thank you, Milani"

Lana scoffed, "I didn't really do much. I stayed in the car."

It took a her a second to realize Voight had stopped. His hands were in his pockets and he was just looking up at her as she stood by the gate, expression waiting, she swore almost shy.

_Oh_

He wasn't thanking her for help with the CI. He was thanking her for letting him talk.

He was _thanking_ her.

Lana swallowed. "Of course." Her smile felt weak.

He nodded her on, dismissing the moment, and Lana turned up the stairs.


	10. Echoed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have had the outline and the bulk of most of my chapters done for sometime. I wrote this chapter weeks ago, and realized while editing that it contained some scenes towards the end that may be stressful given the awful situation that is happening in the US. There isn't anything graphic, but to sum it up, someone is angry about dirty cops not facing consequences. I actually struggled with whether or not I should change this, but Chicago PD has never shied away from dealing with heavy issues, and trying to stay true to that theme, the officers in my story face situations that can be uncomfortable.
> 
> I just wanted to give a content warning. Please don't think anything here is a thinly veiled reference to anything people are currently facing, I feel like that would be insulting to even try. I just want to tell a story that I hope you guys will enjoy.
> 
> Be safe, take care of eachother, and thank you for reading!!!

Rodney jogged to catch up with Lana. He had called out for her to wait up but she must not have heard him.

"Hey! You ready for some more self defense?" He did a mock karate move, but her smile came a half beat late.

"Oh, yeah, it should be fun. Hey," she put a hand out, stopping him, "I was actually wondering..."

Rodney's grin sharpened, completely prepared to tell her he was free after shift.

"Could we try a little more force today? I think the girls could benefit from seeing a little more realism in the defenses."

Lana watched Rodney's expression fall.

"Oh, Do you really think that's necessary?"

Lana just blinked at him, and he shrugged, "I mean, we need something a sixteen year old can do with her purse. We're not teaching MMA."

Lana swallowed her flash of anger. She was irritable to begin with, she didn't want to over-react. "Well, are we going to teach them self defense or pretend self defense, because only one is actually going to make a difference."

Some of her fire slipped into her eyes, and Rodney held up his hands, "Ok sure, whatever you want."

Lana forced a smile. "Thanks."

She turned, stopping short of running into Voight at the door of the gym, and scooted by him. She needed to clear her head and get ready for this class.

The girls were gathered inside and Lana greeted them. Some were practicing the moves from yesterday. Most were just chatting as they waited but they quieted when they saw her.

"Hey, welcome back. My partners are gonna be out in a second, and we'll start going through some things."

She heard Rodney coming up beside her and she made room for him. He meant well and he really was great with the class. Maybe she shouldn't be so annoyed.

"So first, we-"

Her words were cut short by a hand closed over her mouth. She was jerked back, knocked against a hard body. A flash of warm cedar hit her senses and she recognized it.

_Voight_.

He twisted, fast enough she could have barely reacted even if she had wanted to, but she let him take her down. Her stomach lurched as she fell, fingers clawing at the arm around her throat.

He didn't slow her fall, but his right arm hooked behind her, forearm catching the back of her head before it met the ground.

So rough but still so careful.

His left hand was still at her throat, pressing hard against her collarbone, forcing her into the mat.

"You know what she wasn't?" Voight looked at a wide- eyed class as he loomed over her. "Prepared. Yesterday you learned how to spot your attackers. To be prepared. But sometimes, you won't be."

He looked down at her, expression stern and almost smug. "Today we learn how to defend against that."

Lana threw an arm against his elbow joint, brought a knee up as it buckled and forced him off of her as she rolled free.

She hopped to her feet, giving Voight a hand up that he took without complaint. Rodney still looked a bit stunned.

He wasn't the only one.

The class hadn't been expecting this.

Voight looked around, noted the sudden uncertainty, even fear in their eyes. They had grown confident yesterday just to witness how easy she could be taken down.

But they also saw her get out. Lana had been right. He had heard her conversation with Rodney and knew right away she was on to something. These girls needed reality and to know that they could handle it. Not a placebo routine that wouldn't fully keep them safe.

"Now did anyone see what I did?" Milani asked, and one girl raised her hand.

"You, uh, went for the elbow?"

Milani smiled. "That's right. There's always a weak point. We're gonna help you find it."

Rodney was left to watch.

Voight would jerk her to him and she would react, fast and violent.

Then they would slow it down. Voight would pull her back and turn so the class could see, how he was holding her, what parts of her body was pinned and what she could use. And she would walk them through it. How she broke free.

They were focused, no one could deny that. Engaged in having these girls understand. But Voight didn't always let her go. A girl would ask a question and Lana would answer halfway through a demonstration, body still flush against his, his arm still drawn around her waist, and she would stay that way. Cheeks high with exertion. A tension in her stance from being ready to move. But there was something so _comfortable_ about it that Rodney couldn't wrap his brain around.

Lana was breathing hard. She chalked it up to how Voight was really pushing her, but she knew it wasn't that. His hands met her body with a forcible command and she had to strain against them. Strain under them. She would pin him beneath her after breaking his hold and for half a second his hands would grip her thighs. Like they belonged there. Like a natural breath of movement and it was driving her mad.

She couldn't do it. She couldn't go back to it, to his touch, not with Olivia Benson's face stuck in her memory.

She had made the right choice. But as class finished and Voight glanced at her, fettered heat in his eye, she wished she could make another one.

* * *

Voight showered, water cold and blasting, trying to slow his mind. She responded to him. He couldn't be making that up. Imagining it. He _saw_ it in her eyes. Recognized the same thing he felt everytime his hands met her skin. It had kept happening. He would pin her waist and her tank top would slip, hot skin exposed beneath a thumb that couldn't stay still.

Rodney was interested in her. That much was obvious, but he had a feeling Rodney meant strings and Milani wasn't looking for that. She had liked what she had going with him.

What had changed?

Still as he toweled off, he knew it wasn't that hard to figure out why she had stopped coming around.

Prison. Dirty Cop. Dead son. None of that was something any sane person would want to get near. She had pulled back because she had learned a little too much about him, and he shouldn't be surprised. He should have seen this coming.

And maybe he had.

He just hadn't expected himself to care. Hadn't expected himself to miss it. Miss _her_.

He shut his phone off when he got home. Didn't want to deal with the temptation of checking it. Using it.

He could manage that at least.

* * *

They stepped in to chaos.

The precinct lobby was full the next morning, Platt shooing people away from her desk, waving from him as he entered. Erin was behind him and they both cut through the crowd to Platt.

A cop had been shot.

It thudded into you, that kind of news. It was a danger of the job, everyone knew that, but it hit too close to home. One of their own.

His task force was put on the case.

* * *

Antonio slammed the phone down, cursing under his breath. Another useless call. How could no one have seen anything? Two of the nearby stores at the scene had been closed due to a gas leak. Foot traffic had been light, people distracted.

Lana set a cup of coffee down on his desk, squeezed his forearm as she passed and he smiled a tired thank you. He had a lot of respect for her. She moved with the kind of confidence that got things done but didn't attract alot of notice. And she had been going nonstop on this case.

They all had.

It had been a targeted killing but they couldn't figure out _why_.

Everything else was put on hold. He was supposed to see his kids this weekend but he had cancelled. They understood. Sometimes he worried they were too understanding.

They were waiting on a break, a new clue to surface. and he was halfway waiting for Voight to snap. He got pulled tight on cases like these, that hair trigger that much more likely to just go off and Antonio didn't know how to balance looking out for the team and hitting this case with everything he had.

Voight would never intentionally screw any of them over but that didn't mean they wouldn't get caught in the crossfire of his actions.

Antonio wasn't as willing to see that happen.

* * *

Lana glanced at the clock. 3:17. Platt had gotten someone else to cover the class last couple of days. They needed all hands on this. Probably the stupidest thing to worry about right now, but she was a little disappointed she wouldn't get to say goodbye to the girls on the last day. They had worked hard all week. Should be proud of what they had done.

But she had bigger things to focus on right now.

They couldn't figure it out. Everything about the crime scene suggested some sort of revenge killing. It was methodical but the cause of death had been aggressive, like it was personal.

The officer had no obvious enemies. Any potential leads panned out almost as soon as they found them, time and again they were back to square one and Lana couldn't figure out why.

It was past seven when Voight stopped by her desk.

"You should go home, Milani. You've been here since five."

Milani looked up from her computer screen, "Are you heading out?"

"Yeah," Voight nodded, "I'll give you a ride."

Lana didn't protest. She was exhausted, didn't feel like walking or catching a cab.

The windshield wipers beat out a rhythm against the rain and Lana's eyes tracked the movement back and forth before she shook her head to keep from going insane.

How did they still have nothing?

She looked over at Voight, his mind clearly still turning as he drove. He couldn't shut it off either.

None of them could.

"How's Olivia?"

The question popped out of her mouth and she watched him take a second to hear it.

"What, Benson?" he clarified, shooting her a glance, and Lana shrugged. Feeling bold. Or careless. She wasn't sure which.

"Yeah."

"She's good, far as I know."

"You haven't talked to her?"

Voight scratched his chin, "not since the last case, no. Why?"

Lana shrugged again, "I just thought maybe you would talk to her more."

Voight came to a stop in front of her apartment, and turned to her in confusion.

"Not unless she needs help with a case. She's a good friend. Maybe I should call her more."

He had no idea what this had to do with _anything_ and he watched Lana consider.

"Friend," she repeated. and Voight scoffed.

"Yeah. I have those."

She didn't react, was so intentionally nonchalant, and Voight cocked a brow. He knew some of the officers thought there was something between him and Benson. They didn't address it because he hadn't much seen the point but now looking at Milani something started coming together.

"Actually started listening to gossip, did you Milani?"

She looked questioning, innocent. And he pressed. "You thought we were together. Ever since she was here."

Lana looked away, expression unconcerned, but her jaw was tight.

"It seemed pretty obvious."

Voight ignored asking what that meant. He didn't actually care.

"Is that why you haven't..."

He trailed off, and her gaze snapped back, daring him to tell her that wasn't a good enough reason to stop seeing him, and Voight laughed.

A slightly off balance, exhausted laugh and laid his head back against the head rest.

"I wouldn't do that to Olivia, Milani. Or anyone."

Lana searched his expression, before she shook her head. She didn't know why she had brought it up, but she knew it was true. That was the one thing about Voight. He was loyal.

"Thanks for the ride."

She got out before she could say anything else stupid, and ran inside through the pouring rain.

* * *

The keys clacked beneath her fingertips and Lana listened to the sound in the otherwise silent office. The others were out, hitting the streets, looking for witnesses, running down even the vague possibility of a lead. The captain was breathing down their necks, like they wouldn't be doing their best to solve this without her looking over their shoulders, and Lana rolled her eyes.

It was after one when she found something. A social media post from right before the murder, a photo with a car parked in the background. It could be nothing, but she ran the plate.

It was from out of state, registered to a Martin Jackman. No priors. Only family listed was a wife, deceased. There didn't seem to be much there but she kept digging, found a phone number. Maybe he at least had seen something.

She called the number, breathed a little sigh when he answered. He sounded distracted, but paid more attention when she told him she was the police.

"This is about that officer I saw on the news? Yeah, terrible tragedy. Terrible. But, uh, not really sure how I can help?"

Lana explained how his vehicle had been near the scene, maybe he had seen something that had seemed inconsequential at the time that could help them.

"Would you be wiling to come down and answer a few questions?"

"Well, I can't really leave the job site. Maybe after? Although I'm supposed to-"

"How bout I come to you, would that work?"

She was already standing, gathering up her jacket, she scribbled a note on a post it. She would text Voight but she would stick this on his office door just to be safe.

The address he gave her was across town, and she texted for an uber, thankful for the sunshine. This might turn out to be nothing but it was worth the shot.

Voight didn't respond to her text, and she stepped out of the uber in front of a large warehouse.

The side door was unlocked and she crossed inside.

"Mr. Jackman? It's officer Milani, we spoke on the phone?"

There were no employees. The equipment looked up to date, but there was no one operating it. Maybe they were on lunch, she surmised, but something still felt off.

"Ah, sorry I didn't hear you." Martin stepped around the corner, a middle aged man with a slightly protruding stomach, like he sort of kept himself in shape.

"My office is in the back. Don't mind the quiet. Shift change."

Lana followed him, reaching for her phone to check for any response from the team. The top corner flashed no service and she frowned.

Martin showed her into a comfortably lit office, took the worn chair behind the desk and motioned for her to sit down. There were papers scattered everywhere and he shuffled them to the side a bit embarrassed.

"Excuse the mess. I go through a lot of data in a day," he laughed, a wide smile that plumped his cheeks, "Now how can I help you?"

Lana walked him through his day, what he had seen, heard. He had been visiting a store, hadn't heard the commotion until he came back out and by that point the cops were there. He was sorry he couldn't help more but he really hadn't seen much.

Lana sighed, another waste of time. "Well, thank you for your time."

She stood, and shook the hand he offered. "You're busy here, I can show myself out."

At the office door, she paused. "You said you were shopping at Flannigans?"

He looked up from the report he had returned to, "Hmm, oh yeah. I get my work shirts from there."

"And you were there til what time?"

He frowned as if thinking, "8, 830?"

Lana hummed, "Well you have a good day."

She walked away from the office in a hurry, tugging her phone from her pocket. She had seen the report cross her desk earlier this week. The night of the murder, two stores had closed at five due to a gas leak. Flannigans was one of them.

She reached the front door when a shadow crossed it.

Martin Jackman stood in her way,

"I went out the back," he chirped, smiling at her surprise.

The gun in his hand did not look amused.

* * *

Voight checked his phone and frowned. Lana had gone out on a call. Normally he wouldn't be pleased she had done that without his say so, but given the situation, he would let it slide.

Ruzek and Olinsky had beat him back to the office, and he passed by them before spotting the sticky note on his door. He plucked it off with a distracted half smile. Most IT people tried to shove tech down his throat like a new fangled religion. Lana worked with what her team needed and he appreciated that.

He had barely sat down when Ruzek stuck his head in the door.

"Think we got something."

* * *

"I didn't mean for this," Martin gestured toward the chair Lana was forced into, waving the gun like a conductor's wand.

"But I could tell something was up. Don't know how, but you figured me out, didn't you?"

Lana counted her breaths. Stayed calm. Stayed thinking.

"I still don't know why you did it," she offered, and he laughed, turning in place.

"Well that's the beauty of it, isn't it. The beauty of _corruption_. You're all so blind you can't see what's right in front of your face."

* * *

"What am I looking at here," Voight demanded, and Ruzek scrolled through the news article.

"Ok, so when we were looking into Officer Alder's past we missed something. About six months before his transfer here, our officer was involved in a shooting. The suspect was killed but a stray bullet from the suspect's gun hit and killed a woman. Her husband made accusations against him at the time, but because it was ruled to be the fault of the suspect, it never made it on to Alder's transfer record. I found it in an old town's news article online from where Alder was stationed before in Portland."

"So this husband, you like him for it?"

"His social media says he moved here a couple months ago."

Voight nodded, "Alright, call the team, get me an address. Let's find this guy."

He dialed Lana, wanting her to get started on a warrant. She could get one faster than any of them.

"Hey, what's this guy's name?" Voight snapped, frowning as Lana's phone sent him straight to voicemail.

"Martin Jackman."

Hit thumb froze in the process of hitting redial. His hand went to the crumpled note in his pocket.

An address, and a name.

He slammed the post it note down on Ruzek's desk, the molten kind of fear that felt like fury filling his veins.

"This address. _Now_. Lana is with him."

Ruzek went to question, but Olinsky pushed him to the door. They didn't have to know why. They needed to move.

* * *

Lana was watching, looking for an opening. Something. Voight knew she was here but wouldn't know to come looking for her. She couldn't call for help with no signal. Keeping him talking was her goal.

"A _cop_ killed my _wife_. But you know what happened? Nothing. They covered it up. Neat as could be like she was nothing but a convenient puzzle! Blamed it on the guy they killed. _Perversion_ from start to finish and he got away with it. He _got away!_ "

"You told the police this?"

He laughed, a warbled crazed edge and she stayed still as his gaze flailed about the room.

"You think that did anything? You think a guilty cop actually faces any consequences? You're all guilty. For the cover ups. The lies. You defend eachother against the _truth_!"

"Mr. Jackman," Lana shook her head. This wasn't just a ploy to talk him down now. If what he said was true, she couldn't even fathom that anger. "I wish I could tell you that there aren't officers like that. But the truth is, some are. It's sickening, and there needs to be justice, but it doesn't mean that the badge doesn't still stand for something. That there aren't still plenty of us trying to do the right thing. We can look into this, into what happened to your wife. You can help us find that justice."

He grew strangely calm at that. "You're going to help me... are you telling me, that _you_ aren't guilty? That's there's nothing you've done that you don't _deserve_ to be punished for?"

Lana swallowed, feeling the truth land heavy in her stomach, weighing it down.

She _was_ guilty.

It had gotten ruled an accident. Everyone said the other driver was at fault. But they should have had time to stop. If they had reacted quicker, if it wasn't for-

She broke the thought off.

Martin Jackman wasn't done.

* * *

Voight pulled in front of the warehouse, drew his gun and stepped low from the vehicle. He wasn't waiting for backup.

Lana had gone in. With the man who had already killed one cop.

There was no way in hell he was waiting.

He stepped onto the shaded floor of the warehouse, heard a raised voice in the back. He followed the echoed sounds.

The words grew more discernable. Clearer. And his heart grew cold.

* * *

"I did my research, Milani. I know about your little boss. Dirty cop sent to jail just to get out? Given his own little team to run around with? Oh I didn't plan for you Milani, but I'm glad I found you. You're just as dirty as Alder, working for a man like Hank Voight. You deserve what's coming to you. You all do."

He stomped towards her, cold steel barrel pressed to her forehead, and Lana kicked hard. His knee cap gave out and her hands went to the gun. She twisted free, jerking away and the chair tilted and collapsed.

It was a struggle. His blind fury and crushing weight bearing down on her.

She got control. He reached for the weapon.

The sound of the gun going off exploded through the warehouse.


	11. Pass

He stomped towards her, cold steel barrel pressed to her forehead, and Lana kicked hard. His knee cap gave out and her hands went to the gun. She twisted free, jerking away and the chair tilted and collapsed.

It was a struggle. His blind fury and crushing weight bearing down on her.

She got control. He reached for the weapon.

The sound of the gun going off exploded through the warehouse.

* * *

"LANA!"

Voight surged forward as the gunshot echoed. He heard his team breaching behind him. He cleared the corner and saw her, on the floor.

He didn't comprehend what his heart did in that moment.

Martin Jackman lay half across her and she moved, shoved him off as he groaned.

Antonio was on the scene, "You got him?" he asked, stepping by Voight, going to Lana.

Erin trained her gun on the injured man, Ruzek calling for an ambulance.

Antonio checked Lana over, pulled her into a brief hug.

"Nice going, Milani."

She smiled at him, patted Olinsky's shoulder as she passed him. Breathed a deep sigh and shook her head a little. Voight was just staring. Their gazes met and his lips moved, the only part of him that wasn't betraying him.

"I'll need your report, Milani."

She nodded, "You'll have it by end of shift."

* * *

Erin insisted on driving her home. Offered to come in, hang out for a while, a little girl time to forget she had almost been shot today.

She politely refused. Said she was tired.

She made it til almost 8 o'clock.

Voight answered before she could barely knock.

His fingers tangled in her hair, urgent. Demanding.

She hardly noticed as he led her upstairs, felt the softness of the mattress give beneath her as he laid her down. His lips hadn't left hers. Insistent, scarcely breathing. Everything she needed to forget and so much more.

She couldn't stand the guilt. She couldn't shut it out, memories of the truth. She needed Voight to erase every twisted thought.

Voight couldn't believe she was here.

After everything that had happened. Everything that man had said to her before he placed a gun against her skull. That working for him made her dirty. That she deserved what was happening because of the kind of cop _he_ was.

He was a shadow cast over the people around him and the only thing he could do to make it better was to put the darker shadows away.

But right now, with the sound of her breath and the feel of her fingertips, he didn't feel like a mistake. Like a black mark on his own record. All he felt was her.

He knows what she wants, but he can't do it. He can't be that rough, that detached. He presses into her slowly and watches her come apart beneath him, trembling, fingers tense against his skin, gripping him to her.

His lips find her neck and he can't stop the words.

"You really scared me today."

A whisper, callous so it wouldn't break. A tremor of breath as she stilled.

Her eyes search his, wide and full of confusion. They filled, a wave of tears that lay against her lashes, not falling, not building, completely suspended as she stared at him.

Then she shoved him hard.

He fell back, watching as she gripped the blanket and pulled it around her.

"I didn't come here for _that_."

She spit his own words back at him, too angry to be mocking. Her hands shook as she tugged on her clothes.

That wasn't what she needed. She wanted him to break her free of those stupid memories, not drown her in something she didn't know how to feel.

She left. Didn't look back and didn't apologize, stomped out before she really even considered what she was doing. She couldn't stay there. With that touch, how strong she had felt with him so gentle against her. Like he was breaking her down and building her back up and she did not _want_ to want that.

She wanted to go home and forget this ever happened.

Wanted to stop wishing she could just turn around, and go back. Give in. But she was stronger than that. Smarter than that. That only led to trouble, clouded judgment and a weakened soul. He was supposed to be a distraction.

He wasn't supposed to make her care.

* * *

Voight swore, harsh and angry. Why did he have to be so stupid. Ruin the one time she had come back, let him hold her. He should have kept control. Kept his distance. Gave her what she needed and let her leave without saying goodnight.

Instead he had gotten lost, in what he felt when he was near her, in the longing she pulled out of him from somewhere buried so deep he had forgotten it was there. To be close, to be soft and together and simply held.

She hadn't asked for that. Didn't want it, clearly didn't return what he felt. The first time he had been foolish enough to actually hold her, and he had driven her away.

Maybe he was better off. Knowing now, facing the truth that she would never be interested, not in anything real he had to give. He was a means to an end and if he couldn't fulfil that then there was no point in her coming around.

He had crossed that unspoken line and she had crossed him off of her list and he really should have seen that coming.

He wouldn't make that mistake again.

If there was one thing Voight had learned, it was not letting things show.

* * *

"I want to look into it," Lana set a report on Voight's desk, looked just past his shoulder as she spoke. "Martin Jackman's claims about his wife's death."

Voight's lips thinned. No sign of the tender way he had stared at her. No sign of anything. "We have no jurisdiction in Portland. We can't launch an actual investigation."

"I can't do _nothing_. Not if what Martin says is true."

Voight regarded her calmly before speaking. "If you're wrong, Milani, and this gets out, you taint the memory of a fallen officer. I can't let that happen."

Lana's nails dug into her palms. She didn't know why she had expected him to back her on this. She went to leave when he spoke again.

"That wasn't a no, Milani. Just keep it under wraps."

Lana breathed out, turned and made herself meet his eye.

"Thank you, sir."

He nodded to the door. "Dismissed."

* * *

Two weeks. Two weeks passed of barely speaking at the job, working parallel, profession and so _polite_ Lana wanted to bite her tongue just to give her an excuse not to talk.

No one else really noticed. On the surface, nothing had changed. But Lana felt it, in the glances that weren't there, in the rigid way he said her name.

Like it was a fact. Like she wasn't even a person behind it, just a means of doing whatever task he needed done.

She wanted to be mad at him. She wanted to be furious, blame him for every bit of it but she had been the one to shove him off and put him in his place. She should be proud of it. For cutting it off when it got too involved, for saving them both the trouble.

It was the way it should have gone.

So why did it make her so angry.

Her computer chimed as she came back through the office, and Lana pulled up her email. They had taken their sweet time about it, but the Portland Police had sent her everything they had on the Jackman-Alder case.

She opened it up, started switching through the documents, the reports. None of it looked like she thought it would.

Martin's claims that Officer Alder had been responsible for the shooting of his wife Elizabeth had been thoroughly documented, _investigated_. Interviews and eye witness accounts, the ME's report. Nothing had been swept under the rug. Everything pointed to Officer Alder _not_ being responsible. Ballistics wasn't even a match. The shot that had killed Elizabeth hadn't come from Alder's service weapon or his partner's. It had come from the suspect's weapon. The security camera at the gas station had caught most of the scene.

Martin had been _wrong_.

Grief could be devastating. A need to place blame, find answers. He had tracked Alder across the country, so certain he was guilty and he hadn't been.

Lana sat back, feeling her stomach turn. She had been determined to get to the bottom of this, force justice from a broken situation and now, now it was all empty.

She couldn't stomach it. The pain in Martin's eye. The unstable loss. It pushed him to punish a man that didn't deserve it. All the while she knew there were officers that got away with the crimes they committed against the badge.

How was any of this fair.

Antonio stopped by her desk, settled on the edge of it, and gave her a grin.

"Shift is almost over. Let me buy you a drink."

Lana stared at him, a mute, uncomprehending look, and Antonio laughed.

"Relax, Lana, I'm not asking you out. I'm just want to see how you're doing."

He nodded to her hands as he said it, knuckles bruised and scraped raw.

She had gone a little too hard at the punching bag this morning.

She went a little too hard at it most mornings.

Lana gave a relieved chuckle, "Thanks for the offer but-"

Antonio stood, "But nothing," he pointed the file he held at her. "You and me, after shift. Don't say no."

His look was so convincing. pleading and joking all in one, and Lana relented.

"Alright fine. One drink."

* * *

Three drinks in and Antonio was telling her to slow down, laughing at her impression of Ruzek hiding from Platt. He had never really seen her unwind like this, that flush in her cheeks and that smile like she just didn't care about the sad stuff anymore. It pulled out the lively side of her, the one that liked rainbows because they painted the sky such pretty colors.

He had a feeling if sober her could see herself she would die from embarrassment, or blackmail him into never telling anyone. but he was enjoying himself, enjoying seeing her unwind.

"Alright, let's get you home," he chuckled as she stood, grabbed her bag and escorted her to the door. The night was clear and she wanted to walk. He figured it was good for her, walking some of it off.

She never really let on, to what she was thinking, why she was so closed off at work. Even drunk she was a fortress, but Antonio didn't press. They were friends, and he wanted to make sure she was okay. He wasn't gonna pry.

Halfway to her apartment she decided she wanted to check out a store. She headed for the steps as Antonio grabbed her arm.

"Hold up."

She pulled away, caught her jacket on the end of the railing. She tried to tug it free but she was only making it worse. An all out battle ensued. Antonio let her go a minute before coming over.

"Lana. Hey, _Lana_ ," he interrupted her clumsy threats at the railing, unhooked her jacket and spun her to face him, hands on her arms. "Store's closed. We're going home."

She was frowning down at her jacket.

"It's ripped."

Antonio rolled his eyes, a smile behind the exasperation. Shrugging out of his coat, he dropped it over her shoulders. "Better?"

She beamed at him, then with a sour look at the railing, Lana obediently followed him home.

* * *

Voight set his drink down as his phone buzzed. He should have turned the darn thing off. He had just sat down and he didn't feel like dealing with anything else tonight. One new voicemail was waiting for him and Voight clicked on the message.

It was from Lana.

Sounds were muffled, like a pocket dial. He would have hung up and ignored it, but he couldn't help it. His fingers wrapped around the cold glass of his drink, he took a sip, staring forward as he stayed on the line. Lana's voice came through.

"Stop it. Let me go you stupid-"

His glass clinked against the bar, splashing against his hand. She was struggling against something. He couldn't make out much more. She cursed once. A man's voice, distorted. The message ended. Voight threw some cash on the bar and shrugged into his jacket.

It may be nothing. It might not be. He was a few blocks from her place and he was going to check it out.

* * *

Lana didn't like elevators. They encouraged laziness and the close quarters limited tactical advantage. She had explained in detail during the walk up three flights of stairs. She tried to head to the fourth floor but Antonio steered her back. Her keys said 3B, he had to assume that was her apartment number.

Lana fumbled through her bag, muttering, looking for the keys that Antonio was currently fitting in to her lock, opening the door and switching on the light.

"Come on, Milani,"

She was turning sleepy, made it to the doorway then thumped her head against the frame, stood leaning against it with a groan.

"Ouch."

Antonio chuckled, "Yeah, I bet."

She pushed away from the frame, over the giddy high and now she just looked tired. She patted his arm as she passed by.

"Thanks, 'Tonio. I'm good now." He watched as she plopped slowly on to the couch, laid her head back and blinked at the ceiling. Her livingroom was bare, functional, and his lip pulled up in a wry half smile. There was much more behind what Milani presented at work than he ever would have guessed. Whatever was going on in her head, he hoped she sorted it out.

"Get some sleep, Milani."

She gave a mock salute. "Aye, aye sir."

He closed the door behind them, punched the button for the elevator and stood waiting.

"Antonio."

His back straightened instinctively at the voice, head turning to where Voight stepped off of the stairs.

"Sir," he held back his obvious surprise, "What are you doing here."

"You seen Milani?" he asked in response, and Antonio frowned.

"Yeah, just left her. Why."

Voight held out his phone. "This came in fifteen minutes ago."

He played the message, the sounds of Lana struggling and for half a moment Antonio didn't recognize it. Then he laughed.

"No, it was nothing. She walked into a railing. Fought with it a while. Must have dialed you on accident."

"So she's alright," Voight asked, pocketing his phone, and Antonio nodded.

"Yeah. Good checking in, but she's fine."

Voight shrugged. "I was in the area."

Antonio scratched his neck, "How'd you know where she lived?"

Voight just looked at him, "I know where you all live."

Antonio huffed, he should have figured that. The elevator arrived and the doors slid open, Antonio waved a good bye but was stopped by the sounds of a door opening and a tired voice.

"Antonio, you left you, oh-"

Lana's words trailed off as she spotted Voight, Antonio's jacket draped over her arm. Voight's expression turned into something tense. He gestured between the two of them.

"You two make a habit of this?"

Antonio knew the rules, no interoffice dating. Lana was stunning but he had never been interested in her like that. Didn't stop him from recognizing what this looked like.

"We grabbed a few drinks after work," his tone was casual as he crossed for his jacket, and Lana gave him a thankful smile.

"He was making sure I got home okay."

Antonio tipped his jacket to her, nodded to Voight, and didn't linger. No need to make Voight frown any sharper than he already was.

Voight watched Antonio leave, glanced back to where Lana stood, shoulders dropped and body leaned against her door jam. She looked worn.

Two weeks. Two weeks of her pretending he didn't even exist. Two weeks of her walking around like she didn't have a care in the world. Like she had erased every unwanted touch from her mind. Nights spent wondering when that knock would sound for it to never come, like a sadistic kind of hope.

He had known it was over before it even began, but he hadn't been expecting this.

He hadn't expected to find Antonio here, had never seen anything between them and Lana sent him a frank, bitter look.

"Stop frowning. He didn't break any of your stupid rules."

Her undertone was clear, _unlike you_.

Voight bit back a retort, he had come here out of stupid worry and now he just looked like a fool. He should have just left with Antonio.

"You were right." She dropped her head against the wall, squeezed her eyes shut like the movement had made her dizzy. Started talking midthought. "Alder was clean. Martin was wrong. I dug anyway. I screwed up."

Voight shrugged, a little surprised by the topic choice, but he wasn't too concerned about it. Lana had been as discreet as she could have been. "If there's backlash, I'll handle it."

She groaned, sliding down to the floor just to drop her head in her hands.

"I wanted him to be guilty. Got stuck on finding justice that was already found. Maybe it's a good thing I'm not really a cop anymore."

Voight grunted a little at that, walked to her side and nudged her foot.

"Get up."

She glowered up at him, bleary eyes full of self regret, and Voight reached for her arm.

"Go inside, Milani."

She let him pull her up, guide her through the door with a firm hand on her back. Her head was swimming and she was just so _tired_.

Her apartment hadn't changed. Boxes still piled. Counter still bare. He moved into the kitchen and wet a paper towel, brought it to the seat she had dropped into by the table and handed it to her.

She wouldn't take it, and with a rough sigh, he knelt and pressed it against her forehead. She closed her eyes against the cool touch, lips tightening against building thought and she pushed his hand away.

"I lied."

Her eyes were clearer now. Angry. Voight simply waited. She was buried under something and she needed to get out.

Drunk, bitter, and too tired to care, Lana let the words tumble.

"On that report. About the accident. I lied. I wasn't driving." She was shaking her head, slowly, and Voight pushed to his feet.

"Your partner was." He didn't even sound surprised, and Lana gave a strangled laugh.

"It was a stupid accident, he was up for a promotion, and when he asked me to say I was driving, I don't know. I agreed."

Voight watched her fingers tangle themselves around eachother, the way her hands shook just barely. He didn't interrupt.

"We found out after, that the other driver didn't make it. Everyone said the accident had been their fault, she ran the stop sign, we weren't to blame but I couldn't stop thinking. That _something_ wasn't right. That she didn't have to die."

She swallowed.

"A couple months later I found a bottle of pills in my partner's apartment." The words were hard to push past the knot in her throat, that sick feeling rising in her stomach. She remembered everything about that day. Holding the bottle, everything in her training _telling_ her what she was seeing but not being able to believe it. "He had had surgery a year before, and somehow, he had gotten hooked on pain killers. I never saw the signs. Had just _missed_ that my partner was under the influence, that he had been putting us both in jeopardy _every_ time we hit the streets."

She straightened, pushing forward, not quite looking at Voight now.

"I confronted him about it and he admitted it. Said the accident had been a wake up call and he would get help. That he wasn't going to do it anymore... and I believed him," she muttered.

Voight's hands rested on the table beside her, head hanging as he listened, focused on what she said.

"I didn't say anything. Because, because I don't _know_ why." Frustration filled her voice. Embarrassment. "At the time it seemed like an impossible decision to make. He wasn't at fault in the accident, it might have gone that exact same way no matter what. Now I can't stop thinking, if she died because he was impaired. If I could have done something and I didn't. But back then I just, I wanted to move past it. The investigation into the accident was already closed by the time I found out, there didn't seem to be any point dragging it up and when I wasn't cleared for duty I didn't want it to seem like I was making false accusations to get back at him. So I just left. And I never said a word."

"This guy," two of his fingers tapped the table, "You were involved?" His face turned to look at her beside him, and Lana nodded.

"You loved him."

Her eyes fell. "Yes," she whispered.

Yes she had loved him. And she let it control her. Blind her. Let it make her stupid enough to keep her mouth shut when she never should have. "But I lied," her voice grew stronger. "I lied, on the job, and I covered it up. And that woman's family never got justice."

Her voice wavered and broke. She sucked in a breath, telling herself to keep it together. She needed to own up and face this. "...You do with that information what you need to."

He was silent, for four heavy seconds, and then his gaze softened in quiet understanding. "I of all people know the steps we'll go through for the people we love, Lana. Sometimes it's stuff we never thought we would do. Some of the stuff I did for Justin..." he trailed off with a lost kind of shrug.

"Do you regret it?" Lana's voice was hoarse.

"He was my son. I loved him more than anything. I will never regret helping him. I regret some of the people that got tangled up in it. But I wouldn't be who I was if I regreted it."

Tears formed and she couldn't stop them. Fell like each word of her confession and Lana pressed her fingers to her lips to hold in a sob.

He didn't regret it. Stood by the choices he had made to protect the people he loved.

Why couldn't Lana do that? She had stepped up for her partner, her friend, the man she had been in love with for years and all she felt was this sickening guilt.

She didn't care that he was there, watching her fall apart. She buried her face into shaking hands and she cried.

Voight couldn't do it. Couldn't not reach for her, hold her against the guilt and grief that were pouring out of her. He stepped forward.

Her breath caught in a gasp between tears, face hidden behind her hands as he knelt in front of her.

"Lana," his hand, warm against her neck, seeing if she could focus, if she could calm but too much had come undone. Her forehead dropped against his shoulder, her tears following the curve of his neck and he felt them against his chest. She was small in his arms. Huddled into something tight and shaken. Maybe it wasn't wise, maybe it was only going to get him in trouble, but Voight did the only thing he could do.

He held her tightly and waited for this to pass.


	12. Stepped

Lana woke with a groan, face smushed into her pillow, light streaming through a poorly closed shade. Her hair had come lose and her top knot lay like a wet sock across her face.

She growled at it, pushed herself up and blinked at the sunlight that someone needed to turn off.

Panic hit her a moment later.

She was late.

Lana collapsed back in bed as another realization followed.

It was Saturday.

She rolled off of the comforter, watching the room wobble as she stood up. Normally she held her alcohol just fine. But she hadn't eaten before hitting the bar with Antonio, drowned her thoughts a little too fast and she was paying for it now.

She shuffled to the door, entire body feeling like it was getting pulled into the floor.

The coffee pot sputtered, dishes in the sink watching her and she pretended not to notice them. She wasn't in the mood to tidy up.

She poured a cup and downed half of it black, her face screwing up at the taste. A knock at her door had peering through the peephole. The uniformed back of a delivery guy walking away was all she saw and Lana tugged the door open.

A package lay in the hall. Odd, considering she hadn't ordered anything. She carried it in, setting her coffee down on the table by the door.

The return address read Sunset Cafe. A tiny little bakery near her apartment in Miami. She would stop in before shift every morning. Grab a coffee and a pastry that Eric never approved of. Sugar was not a breakfast item. But he would meet her there anyway. Order a coffee with the sandwich he had gotten down the street. They would walk to the precinct and start shift together.

She opened it slowly, inhaling that warm scent of vanilla. A card lay on top. A "thinking of you" note from the sender.

_Hope they're as good as you remember. Try to wait until at least lunch._

It wasn't signed. It didn't need to be.

Eric had sent her her favorite pastry. A literal taste of home and Lana blinked at it uncomprehendingly. What in the actual-

"You aware you left your door open?"

Lana jerked, and uttered a word that would have had her mother taking off her sandal. Voight stood in her doorway, and his lips quirked at her outburst.

"Bad time?"

Lana pinched the bridge of her nose. There was a dull thud happening repeatedly in the back of her skull and she couldn't think.

"Why, uh, why are you here?"

Voight's arms folded, "After last night," his shoulders lifted. "We should talk."

_Last night_?... it was painfully difficult to understand what he was talking about.

Lana's hand dropped as she remembered.

Last night. She had told him everything. Eric. The accident. The pills.

She didn't remember him leaving, anything else she may have said. That had come after, after she had exhausted herself with the kind of tears you wished no one ever had to see. After he had held her. _That_ she remembered. The sheer relief of having it out there. A secret fermented by how long she had kept it inside.

But now she was facing the consequences of that, and she had no idea what they were going to be.

Lana's brows tented, hands fingering the sides of her long t-shirt. It was the same one she had been wearing, the night he had showed up at her door. When she had learned about Justin and Voight hadn't been prepared. She looked uncertain. Vulnerable. He didn't know how he was going to do it, to keep his distance after stepping close. After facing her tears last night.

Something had changed. Voight had felt it, as he detangled her fingers from his shirt and told her to get some rest. As he stepped out of her apartment with every word of her confession filing itself in his mind. He had spent weeks wanting what he couldn't have. Been bitter, jealous. Knew what he felt was unrequited and tried to pretend he never cared in the first place.

But it didn't matter anymore. He was a fool for ever letting himself get this far, but he was in it now. And he had never been a man that was very willing to lie to himself.

The truth was it didn't matter if she cared. If she wanted him. He still cared. Not just for her touch and the relief it brought, but everything that went behind it.

Lana didn't want that from him. He understood that. Would respect that. That didn't mean he wouldn't do what he could for her. _Be_ what he could for her.

"What do we need to talk about?" Lana trudged to her kitchen, dropped the box on the table, waved a hand that said help yourself, and went for another cup of coffee.

Voight took a seat, nodding as she held the coffee pot out to him and took the cup she offered.

"I need to know what you're planning to do about this."

"About what." Lana plopped into the seat across from him, poured an uncomfortable amount of sugar into her coffee and stared down the pastries in the box like they were the source of a great internal debate.

She was a mess, hair falling loose and a bit wild, cheek still flushed from being smushed against her pillow. Voight hid a smile behind his coffee, ignored the flood of warmth that hit his chest. He cleared his throat and set his hands on the table.

"What you told me about your partner..." He chose his words, "You have a habit of digging into things, Milani. Is this something you're going to be able to leave be?"

"Should it be?" It was somehow both accusatory and a very real question, and Voight considered her a moment.

"You have to consider the situation here, Milani. You feel guilty about what _might_ have happened. You have no proof. It would be your word against his months after the fact."

He was vocalizing the debate that had turned in circles through her mind for months, and Lana leaned forward, eager to have something other than the inside of her own skull to argue against.

"But doesn't her family deserve to know? Shouldn't there be consequences? He was using on the _job_."

"And you knew about it, Lana," Voight interrupted, firm but not angry, and he held her gaze. "You knew and you lied for him. There would be consequences for that too. You could lose your badge just as much as he could. Is that something you're willing to see happen."

Lana's lips moved but she had nothing for them. That was the question, wasn't it. The ultimate reason behind it all. Telling on Eric told on herself.

"I'd be weak if I didn't."

Voight laughed, "You don't know how to be weak, Milani. If you were the only person you were protecting you would have come forward a long time ago. You believed him when he said he was getting clean. You still do. You don't want to mess that up for him."

He knew it was true. Only a heart that big would feel that guilty, and would still try to protect. She was torn by loyalty on both sides. To her partner, this man she had loved, and to what she felt was justice. It was eating her from the inside out, and she needed to balance herself out. Voight didn't know what that was going to look like. But he didn't want to see her losing her badge over something her ex-partner had done.

He pushed off from the table. "Look, I told you before, Milani, I protect my team. I understand what you did, but it stays between us. We don't have to mention it again."

It was over and settled. Just like that. So effortless. The hardest decisions made with such simple confidence it broke her anxiety in half. She watched him shrugging into his jacket, suddenly not ready for him to leave quite yet.

"Thought the team only included me if you say it does."

He stopped, faced her with an unreadable look in her eye. It felt calm.

"It does."

She was still sitting, long after he left, staring at the box and thinking over two simple words.

Then she stood, and shoved the pastries in the freezer.

* * *

"Ooo, pastries," Ruzek rubbed his hands together excitedly, flipped the box open and saw nothing but crumbs.

"Oh, come on!"

Attwater would have laughed, but his mouth was full. Jay had come in just behind Ruzek and he eyed the box dejectedly. Lana watched Erin catch his attention, slip a napkin towards him across her desk. She had saved him half of hers, and the look of utter devotion on Jay's face had Antonio rolling his eyes.

Lana was glad someone had enjoyed the pastries. She had them in her freezer for a week and hadn't touched them.

Voight stuck his head out of his office. "Got a hit on that missing persons. Jay, Erin, stay behind with the witness. Milani, let's go."

A CEO had been under investigation for embezzlement when he had gone missing. It was assumed he had run until a witness came forward about an abduction. Lana had been digging through his financials and what had began as embezzlement now looked like a blackmail payment. When they froze his accounts he couldn't pay, and now he and his family were missing.

Nothing was ever simple here.

Lana grabbed her tablet, followed Voight down and slid into the passenger seat. She wasn't sure exactly what had changed. But Voight had stopped by her desk Monday morning, held out a newly issued tablet and asked if she could work from it.

Of course she could. She just didn't know why she should with a perfectly good computer in front of her.

This was why.

She was out on calls, responding to real time information, as close to the action as she could ever hope to be.

A man matching the suspect's description had been seen at a gas station out of town. Lana was searching for properties in the area, abandoned or isolated. She narrowed the search and directed Voight down a long drive.

"Stay here," Voight commanded, undoing his seatbelt. He fit his comm into his ear, waving his team forward as they arrived.

Lana was running the owner of the old building, known associates, one ear on the comms. The owner had priors, suspected arson, and she fed the info to the team.

A commotion came over the radio, shots fired. The back door of the structure banged open and a girl ran out. She was young, hands bound, likely the missing daughter and Lana darted out of the car as a man came out after the girl.

She was closer to the kid than the man and she pulled her down as the man fired. Antonio appeared, put two shots into his chest as Lana tugged the girl up, checked her over.

The girl was fine, just shaken, and she clung to Lana like she wouldn't let go.

Two assailants down, two in custody. The father had some bruising but the rest of the family was unharmed. She had forgotten what it felt like, seeing a family saved firsthand, just all in a day's work.

"Nice save," Voight joined her as she watched the paramedics check the mother and daughter. "I was particularly impressed with how you managed to do it from the car."

Lana bit back a smile, "Thank you, sir."

Voight cocked his head at her. He was taking a risk, bringing her into the field. One he hadn't put on any one else. When she was out she rode with him.

And it was working. She was on top of the team, real information and real responses. Their take-downs were more concise. Safer. But this wasn't the first time she had taken action. It was always necessary, always done to save a life when she was the only option. Hank was proud of her for that.

But he wondered, with every report they handed in that kept her name off of it, if it would ever get to her. The casual lies. He was letting her do her job the only way he knew how, but Milani had always been an honest cop. He had her bending lines since the minute she walked in, and he worried that one day it would be too much. He wanted her here but worried it would change her. She had a good heart. A clean soul. She was a _good_ cop.

That wasn't always how they did things around here.

* * *

"Another?" Lana muttered to herself, she couldn't believe it. An investigation had them chasing down a string of petty robberies at a local shops. They had gotten hit twelve times in the past month, always over something stupid. Until their serial shop lifter graduated to full time murderer.

Voight stepped out of the shop where he was interviewing the owner, slid into the driver's seat and tossed a kitkat bar onto the seat next to her.

"Here."

Lana brightened. "Thanks." She tore it open, offered him a piece, but he waved her off.

"Owner wasn't helpful at all. You find anything?"

"Yeash," Lana mumbled around the candy in her mouth, "Sorry." She took a drink of her water. "Yes. Another report came in, same MO for the robbery. No bodies though."

She gave him the address and Voight pulled out.

She had gotten used to his silence. There was something deliberate about it. They would go on calls and he would give and take information, strictly professional. It gave her room to focus on doing her job while being in the field. Was a solid backdrop for her to work against and she liked it.

But there wasn't quite distance there. She didn't know how to describe it but Voight had somehow become a natural part of her day. Little things. Stupid things. Like the candy bar. He would hold the door for her, remember her order when they stopped for lunch. It was normal, learning things about someone you spent time with, but, it felt like, like she was worth paying attention to.

It was the stupidest thing to focus on. After all their heated moments, her anger and his regrets. Touches that had turned into something she couldn't handle before they had cut out all together. After all of that. The way he was somehow still there but simply let her be.

It felt safe.

Maybe he wouldn't understand it. She didn't much understand it herself.

But she liked it.

And the silly part of her didn't want it to stop.

* * *

Lana felt good. She drilled another jab into the punching bag, bounced back on her toes, centering her gravity. Another week had passed, another shift had ended and she had hit the gym, working off the energy of a good day. The kind when she accomplished something and wanted to keep that focus going.

Antonio passed her coming out of the showers. "Still here?"

"You're one to talk." She pulled her hair back into a ponytail, and he laughed.

"Catching a little over time. I'm off in twenty if you want a ride. It's windy out."

"I'm good, but thanks," She was looking forward to the walk, even in the wind.

Antonio held up his hands, "offer stands." He side stepped her, and Lana tugged her bag strap over her shoulder. She had forgotten her water bottle at her desk and detoured up the stairs for it.

Voight's light was still on, door standing open, and Lana paused, hands wrapped around the strap to her bag. She had already said goodbye after shift. Didn't have any real reason she needed to talk to him.

Her feet carried her forward anyway.

"Hey," she spoke softly from the doorway, not wanting to startle him, and he looked up from the report he was reading.

"Milani. You need something?"

"No, I just," she held up her water bottle. "Came back for this."

Voight set his folder down and rubbed his eyes. He hadn't realize how much time had passed since shift ended.

Milani tucked her bottle under her arm, "You headed out soon? You look tired."

Voight gave a half laugh, "Yeah, maybe." He stood, pulled his jacket from the back of his chair.

They walked down together, didn't really talk but she passed beneath his arm as he held the door, glanced up at him with a small smile that he felt more than he had any right to. She turned to the main door, windows dark, outline of trees bent against the force of the wind, and Voight called her back.

"You walking in that?"

She looked back over her shoulder, lifting it in a short shrug. "It's not too far."

Voight found himself shaking his head.

"I'll give you a ride."

Her deliberation lasted only a moment, then that lip curved in a slight smile.

"Sure."

* * *

"What were you working on?"

"Hmm?" Voight looked her way as he pulled out of the garage. He had gotten too used to her there, relaxed back in his passenger seat.

"What case were you going over just now?"

As far as she knew they didn't have a pressing active case, and Voight cleared his throat.

Some nights there was more than enough work to be done.

Other nights there was nothing more than an empty house to avoid going home to.

His phone rang, and Voight fished it out of pocket, looked down at the number beneath the red glow of the traffic light.

"It's Benson," he said, surprised, and with a glance at Lana, he answered the call.

"Hank, how are you."

Olivia's voice came through the car, Voight only then realizing his bluetooth was connected.

"I've been good, yourself?"

The light changed and he pulled forward, debated taking the call off bluetooth but decided to just let it be.

"Oh I've been good, busier than ever it seems. How's the team doing, is Milani still working out?"

He could feel Lana looking at him, questioning why on earth she would ever be a subject of conversation between them.

"She's a good officer."

Olivia was distracted or she would have caught his hesitation. Would have pushed. She had taken an interest in the officer she had helped get stationed there and at any other moment Voight wouldn't have minded, talking about Officer Milani, her additions to his team.

But not with her sitting there looking at him.

"Good. Well the reason I called is I'm hoping you might have some information for me. We're searching for a man named Timony Marcos, he's involved in a case, and I saw in his record that he served time same time you did."

Voight cleared his throat. Benson didn't usually bring up his time in prison.

"Yeah, I knew him. What's he doing in New York?"

"I was hoping you could tell me."

Voight tried to think. They hadn't exactly been friends but he had heard things none the less. "He talked about a cousin. Don't think they were blood but they grew up together. Said he would see him if he ever got out. Name of Tony C."

There was a pause as Olivia wrote that down. "Alright I'll look into it. Thank you, Hank. Tell Erin hello for me."

Voight told her goodnight and ended the call.

Lana reached forward, pushing one of the vents away from blowing directly on her, the sound of rain against the wipers filling the car.

"You make a good team, you and Olivia."

Her comment was simple enough, but Voight's hands flexed on the wheel. Lana had assumed before, that there was something between him and Olivia. Held it as a reason to keep away and he respected that. But Lana had self admittedly never been one to listen to gossip. How had she been so certain he and Olivia were together.

"Yeah. I have a lot of respect for her."

They were almost there, to her apartment. Voight could just let the silence stretch. But he was curious. He asked, blunt and just a little hurried.

Lana tensed. She wasn't prepared for that question. They never talked about it, anything that had happened between them outside of work, and even the slightest reference caught her off-gaurd.

She didn't have to answer. She knew that. She didn't have to admit anything.

So why did she find her mouth opening?

"I saw you, together."

"Where?"

Lana felt her heartbeat thickening. Nerves or embarrassment, she didn't know which, but she felt shy.

"Leaving your place. The morning we started our case with her."

Voight frowned. If Milani had seen her, had been there...

She would have been looking for him and found a woman on his doorstep instead.

"Benson had checked in to get me up to speed on the case."

Lana was staring straight ahead. "Yes, I understand that now." Her tone was so reasonable it was almost comical.

"You could have asked me." Voight pointed out, something gentle about the way he spoke.

Lana puffed out a laugh. "It wasn't my business."

"But you were bothered by it, thinking I would do that to Olivia. Make you a part of it."

"I was," she acknowledged.

Voight came to a stop outside her apartment, shifted into park and faced her there. Her fingers laced and her hands dropped into her lap.

"It wasn't just that." Her eyes were on the rivulets or rain connecting and diverging along the window. Like it was less of an admittance if she wasn't looking at him.

"Then what was it."

Voight's voice was too low, left too much room for her to fill with her answers and Lana stared at the rain and pretended this conversation just didn't count.

It happened under storm clouds. They didn't listen like the sun.

"I knew what we weren't, Hank. We got what we wanted without strings. But after seeing Olivia leaving. I guess I felt like a cheap substitute."

Voight's hand tightened on the gear shift.

"Milani." His voice was sharper, louder, and it brought her eyes to him in surprise. "You aren't cheap. I never meant to make you feel that way."

She shrugged at him, a it's-not-a-big-deal smile that was ready to dismiss all of this, and Voight wanted her to listen. To understand.

That their moments had helped him more than she ever knew. That she had laid stepping stones in the dark when he wasn't ready to turn on the light.

She had been exactly what he needed and what he didn't know he wanted and there wasn't a way to thank her for that without saying too much.

"I should go." She sighed, but didn't move.

_not yet._

It stayed on the edge of his tongue, ready to fall.

Voight looked forward.

"Have a goodnight, Milani."

She stepped out into the rain.


	13. Strain

Antonio rapped twice, sticking his head in at Voight's call.

"What's up?" Voight asked. Shift had been quiet and long, whatever interruption Antonio had was a welcome one.

"Platt's sending up a visitor for you."

Voight pushed up from his desk. He hadn't been expecting anyone, and the man that stepped off the stairs was a stranger to him.

"Sergeant Voight?" the man extended a hand, his teeth flashing white as he smiled, "I'm Detective Watts."

"What can I do for you?" Voight asked, shaking the offered hand. Antonio perched on the edge his desk.

"I'm here about Officer Milani."

Antonio's brow crinkled as he bit into an apple, and he watched Voight's arms fold, set back on his heels, like he instinctively didn't like where this was going.

"What about her?"

The detective adjusted the sleeve of his suit jacket, the kind that was subtly nicer than your average detective. "I have a position for her."

"She already has a position." Antonio spoke around the apple in his mouth, and Voight sent him a look that questioned why he was including himself in this conversation.

"Yes, I understand that." The detective slipped his hands in his back pockets, casual, "We have started a similar unit to Intelligence back in Miami, and we would like her to be a part of our team. Her experience there would be helpful."

"Her experience is helpful. _Here_." Antonio interjected again, and didn't even wait for Voight to scowl at him. He held his hands up in submission and walked around to his chair. Whoever this guy was, Voight would sort him out.

But Voight didn't respond. He had gone a very unsettling type of quiet, and Antonio was suddenly wondering if he had been listening to a word this detective had said.

Voight was stuck repetitively processing one word. Miami.

This detective was from Lana's home. Wanted Lana to return there. To the precinct that had her transferred over her partner's mistake. To the partner who had lied to her. And now they wanted her back?

He didn't like any of it.

"Well," Detective Watts drug out the word, facing Antonio now, "I understand your hesitancy to lose Officer Milani, she's a fine asset to any team. I'm just not certain her personal ideals and _this_ team," he glanced at Voight as he spoke, "are the best match."

And it was there in his eyes, that judgement. Watts had done his homework, it seemed, knew what kind of unit it was Voight handled, didn't want Milani anywhere near it.

"Did Milani actually say that?" Antonio demanded, he had been irritated all day and this detective was ticking him off. The man gave an allowing shrug.

"I haven't had an opportunity to discuss it with her yet. I was speaking from former experience."

Voight stopped Antonio from replying. His tone was very steady, but his eyes were cold. "If Officer Milani accepts the position I will approve the transfer. When _she_ informs me it is necessary."

"Of course," he gestured like that was only natural. "Well I was hoping to find her here to discuss it but it would seem she's out. I can come back another time."

Antonio was more than eager to show him out. But they reached the stairs as Milani stepped off of them and the way she froze spoke volumes.

Her lips moved once, silent, gaze flicked to Antonio's with a single question in her eyes.

"Eric?..." she shook her head like clearing it would make this make sense, "What are you doing here?"

"Ah, there you are!" There was delight in his voice, something boyish about the way his eyes lit up. History lay heavy in the air between them and Antonio was looking back and forth like he wanted to know every detail.

Eric moved towards her and Lana raised a single finger.

"Don't."

Anger trembled in her voice. Antonio's shoulders dropped, instinctively protective but it was Voight who interrupted them.

Standing in the background. Unnoticed. Watchful. The pieces clicked together in his mind.

"Milani. My office. Now."

She passed by Eric, Antonio, entered Voight's office before him as he motioned her by with barely a glance at him. Began pacing the small inner space in agitation as he closed the door.

"That your old partner?" Voight nodded to the closed door and Lana's gaze darted to his.

"Yeah."

She still paced, arm folded and hand raised, fingers against her lips. "What is he doing here," she muttered. Distracted. Angry. Ready to snap and Voight shook his head.

"Deal with this somewhere else, Milani."

There was a slight warning in his tone. It had her stopping. Posture stiffening. She faced him with biting, intentional calm.

"Yes sir. I'll keep my drama out of your work space."

She went for the door but his hand met the handle before hers.

"That's not it, Milani." He looked down at her, stopped an inch from his arm. She wasn't okay. The surprise of seeing Eric had her ready to explode and she hadn't even heard the job offer yet. "You need to say what needs to be said without it coming back on you. You can't do that here."

She breathed out a disgruntled sigh, Voight's hard logic was enough to make her calm. He was right.

"So what now," eyes lifted to his own, near enough he could see the confusion tempering the anger in her gaze. The ring of brown so deep it was almost black. "I just tell him to get lost?" lips curled in a half attempt at a smile.

"You have a way of contacting him?" Voight asked simply, and she frowned.

"Yes. Why."

His hand took her arm, drawing her away from the door. "Wait here."

Lana didn't know what he was going to do. But she didn't argue.

Voight rejoined Antonio, who stood staring down the detective with the kind of silence that would have made anyone uncomfortable.

"I need Milani on a case. You can discuss what you need to after shift."

He looked like he wanted to argue, but it was obvious neither of them were going to be very receptive at the moment.

Antonio looked at Voight as Eric walked away.

"What was that about?"

Voight shrugged, "that's Milani's business."

"Yeah, but she clearly-" Antonio cut his protest short. Whatever Lana's past was with that guy, Voight probably didn't have any interest in getting involved. He had stepped in just enough to keep his office space controlled. Antonio would check on Lana later.

* * *

Lana was at the window when he stepped back in.

"He's gone."

"Thank you, Hank," her sigh sounded as she turned to face him, "I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting to see him."

"You don't gotta apologize," the space of his office stood between them, left room for his concern without it crowding out the distance. "Are you alright?"

Her smile was embarrassed, dismissive, "Yeah, of course. I'll talk to him later, see what he wanted."

Voight didn't respond and her eyes narrowed. "Did he mention, why he was here?"

"He did." Voight admitted, not offering more information and honestly, she didn't want to ask for it. Eric was a thought she had learned to put out of her mind and she didn't want to waste the energy on guessing. She had a couple more hours on shift. She would deal with him later.

She blew out a breath. "I should get back to work." Her hand raised as she passed him, fingers resting on his arm in quiet thanks.

Antonio was waiting for her, clearly wanting to know what that was about and very obviously not going to press.

"I'm sorry that was awkward. He's an old friend. Last time we spoke we argued. Guess I'm still mad at him," she laughed as she said it, and Antonio did not look wholly convinced. He relented though, especially when Voight came out.

Voight pulled Antonio out on a call, left Milani to hold down the office. They weren't back when shift ended, and Milani walked home beneath a lightly clouded sky.

She made dinner. Didn't touch her phone. She wasn't calling Eric yet. Still couldn't believe he had just shown up at her work. He could have warned her he was coming. But that was just like Eric, the man loved surprises.

A knock at her door had her stopping in place.

It couldn't be. He wouldn't just show up here.

But every part of her knew that he would.

She stomped over and swung it open, something deep within her hoping it would be Voight. Or Antonio. She'd even take Ruzek at this point.

Eric stood there, blonde and tan and looking so cheerful she wanted to murder him.

"Why are you here."

He didn't even get a 'hello,' and he smiled patiently. "Well we couldn't speak at the office."

Lana just stared at him.

"As to why I'm here in Chicago, you haven't been answering my calls or texts, and we need to talk."

"I did answer your text." Lana went to retrieve her bag, Eric taking that as invitation to follow her in.

She fumbled around for her phone to prove it, pulled up his messages just to see her response still sitting in send bar. "I must have not sent it," she muttered.

Eric stood in livingroom."So how have you been?" he asked.

"Fine."

"How's the job going?"

"Good."

"I understand you just wrapped a pretty big case, I saw it on the news."

Lana hummed in response, and Eric raised a brow at her.

"Not really interested in the small talk I see."

"What do you need to talk about, Eric. You don't show up out of the blue to ask about my day."

"I want you to come back and work for me."

"...for you."

And he smiled, a flash of brilliance that lit his whole face. "Yes, Lani. That promotion that I was in line for. I got it!"

She stared at him, a thousand unwelcome emotions merging into one building storm.

"Congratulations." Her voice was monotone. The kitchen offered a distraction and she pulled the chicken out of the oven, waved the steam away with a pot holder, and realized she had completely lost her appetite.

She had moved past this. Or else she had tried to. Every nuance and broken promise and those unsettling compromises she had made at home.

She had a new job. New life. Why was he _here_.

"Look, Lani," his hand on her arm had her turning, realizing he had followed her into the kitchen. "I'm good now. I'm clean thanks to you, to what happened, I was able to sort some things out, realize my mistakes. I owe you. You made this possible for me. I want to make that up to you."

"You think a job is going to make it up to me?" The pot holder crumpled in her hand, damp with warm steam against her fingers. "You think _anything_ is going to fix what you asked me to do? I covered for you and someone _died_ , Eric."

"I didn't know that was going to happen, Lani. It was an accident."

"An accident?!" She choked against rage. How could he say that. Like he was innocent. Like his choices hadn't affected anything.

"Of course, Lani. That girl ran a stop sign. There was nothing I could do."

"YOU COULD HAVE NOT BEEN HIGH!"

She barely recognized the voice that left her. Loud and ugly and to her shame it broke, making her sound weak. Overly emotional. This wasn't how she wanted to handle him. But he had shown up without permission, without giving her time to prepare. She stood in her own kitchen and somehow he still had the upper hand. Always prepared. Always in control. Except. Except.

He looked.

so.

_hurt_.

"How could you say that, Lani?"

Lana stuttered, so angry she could scarcely breathe. He couldn't be denying it.

"What do you mean. I found the pills, Eric. You _admitted_ to using them."

"I know that, Lani. Yes, I had started abusing my pills. But it was on the weekend, or after a long shift. I _never_ used on the job."

He drew back, betrayal drawing out the emotion in his eyes. "I don't know how you could even think that about me."

Lana was stunned. There was no other way to explain her loss of words. of thought. of belief.

"I don't," she looked away, focused hard on responding. "You're saying. the day of the accident. When that woman died. You weren't using?"

Her voice stayed steady on that one. But still didn't sound like her.

Her ears were ringing.

"No," a step forward and his hands gripped hers, pleading and so sincere. "Lani, I swear it. I know I made mistakes, but nothing ever so bad as that. I really," his chest moved with a sigh, "I thought you knew me better than that."

A sad smile, a gentle squeeze to the hand he still held.

"I've intruded on your evening long enough. I'll let you eat. We'll talk soon, okay Lani?"

With that he showed himself out of the apartment she had never invited him into. Lana was still a moment, then with a shake of her head she grabbed the baking dish full of chicken and shoved it, oven mitt and all into the fridge.

She needed a drink.

A lot of them.

* * *

The punching bag wasn't cutting it. It was too blank, too passive. Her blows landed hard and it gave nothing back. She hadn't slept. Had barely eaten. Was just enough hung over to want to murder the world.

She had gotten here early. Didn't even know what time it was now. She spun, kicking high, driving her weight into it and stood panting.

She glanced over then, at the figure she had spotted as she turned, the man leaned comfortably against the wall. Lana wasn't sure how long he had been there, watching. She had closed everything out, trying to get lost in the repetition of punches and it had only partially worked.

"It's early even for you, Milani." Voight pushed off from the wall, disapproval in his tone. It covered the concern in his eye.

"You're here aren't you," she countered, launching another kick at the bag.

He didn't argue. Instead he moved, circled her as she worked.

"You're dropping your kicks." He critiqued idly. Lana bit her tongue. She knew she was. She was tired. and irritated. and was more concerned with breaking a sweat than checking her form.

She threw another jab, felt him closer now, behind her but she ignored him.

She tried to anyway.

His hand met her hip, turned her away from the bag. "You're gonna tire yourself out before shift even starts."

Lana spun free of his hand, knocking his arm away. Faced him with a challenge in her eyes and his gaze met it squarely. "Is that so."

She swung, tempering her speed in case he needed time to react. She had no idea how awake he was yet.

He didn't need the extra time. He ducked easily, caught her arm and jerked her off balance. In a moment he had her pinned, flushed and panting against his chest.

"Are you done?" his voice was in her ear, dry but warm and Lana grinned.

"No," she grunted, driving her hips back she broke free, pulled his arm behind his back and knocked him to his knees. "Are you?"

He turned, and honestly, she let him. He caught her calf and jerked, her knee buckled and she dropped against his chest. Voight felt her hands pressed into his shoulders, there was a dozen moves she could use right now and _none_ of them involved tangling her fingers into the fabric of his shirt. He rolled, driving her back into the mat, hands locking on to her wrists. She was counter rolling instantly. She was fast but he was stronger. His hold didn't break as she brought his body under hers, straddling it for the upper hand.

Her hands were pulled to the mat, his fingers pressed against the rapid pulse in her wrists. He slid them, along the floor as her body was pulled closer over his chest, slipped her hands beneath his neck. Rested his head against their fingers.

"I'm not awake enough for this yet, Lana."

There was humor in his eye, something soft in his voice. It made her forget how they had gotten here, why she had been drilling into that stupid punching bag in the first place. She let her head drop forward, rest against his shoulder as her body settled, drained and comfortable against his like the only energy she had left was to stay right here. It was a fraction of a moment but it was enough for her to feel it through every part of her.

Something happened to his breath, it caught, unexpected. His finger tightened on her wrists, flexed before suddenly releasing.

"Lana..." the strain in his voice, that reminder of reality. She grumbled, falling to the side, her fingers slipping free beneath his neck like a vanishing touch.

"Gosh I'm exhausted." She lay beside him, staring up at the harsh fluorescent lights.

Hank took a moment to steady his breath, his hands. He got he elbows under him, looking down at the woman sprawled beside.

"Have you eaten?"

She cocked her head at him in thought, "Why."

He stood, tugged her up and jerked his head to the showers. "Because I'm hungry. Get ready. We have a while before shift starts."


	14. Needed

Voight took a sip of his coffee, watching Lana pour packets of sugar into hers. It was a dead give away that she was still frustrated. She used the three in front of her and scowled, until Voight plucked a couple from his side of the table and held them out to her.

"Thanks." she muttered, tearing those open too. She went to take a drink and stopped, set her coffee down with a thud.

"He said he wasn't using." It blurted out of her, and Voight's brow raised.

"Your partner?"

Her fingers pinched the bridge of her nose, "Yeah," she dropped her hand. "He swears the day of the accident he was clean. That he never used on shift."

Voight frowned, "Do you believe him?"

Her jaw moved as she swallowed, eyes fixed out the window, "I don't know," one shoulder twirled in a shrug, "I mean, I trusted him. Right up until I found those stupid pills. But now I found out all this time I could have been blaming him for something he never even did. How could I be wrong about him _twice_."

"You made a mistake, Milani," his voice had her looking back at him, expectant. "You just don't know what was it yet. If he's telling the truth, you doubted him when he didn't deserve it. If he's lying, you never should have trusted him in the first place. That's on you."

She gave a bitter laugh, "You're saying this is my mess."

"I'm saying it's your call." He leaned forward, morning light from the window slanting across his face. It was warm. Calming. She was in an instant glad a drunken confession had given him the truth, that he was here to talk to.

"Look, Lana," he continued, "You have good instincts. But they won't do anyone any good if you don't listen to them. I don't know Eric. I don't know if you can trust him. But you can trust yourself. And you need to. Or you'll never be able to do this job."

Trust herself. Her instincts. Like she had done with Martin, tried to dredge up dirt on an innocent cop? Like she had done with Eric?

If he was telling the truth, it would mean months of guilt, of anger, was just... useless.

But if he was lying, even now, after everything? She didn't even recognize the person that would make him.

She wanted it to be true. That she had been wrong and he had been clean. She wanted to believe him.

Their food came and Voight let the conversation drop, let Lana sort through all those thoughts behind her eyes. She was confused. Frustrated. Hell who wouldn't be. To learn that the guilt you had carried for months might be empty. That all that broken trust may not have been so broken after all. To not know.

She didn't mention the job offer, didn't seem willing to even deal with that subject right now, and he didn't ask.

Yesterday the man who had shown up with an offer to take Milani away had been the same one who had hurt her, cost her her job. He was the orchestrator of her biggest regrets and she would never go back to that.

Now, now Voight wasn't so sure. He was also her partner. The man she had loved. Who may have just removed every reason she had to say no.

With no reason not to go, he couldn't think of a single reason she had to stay.

* * *

Erin set her coffee down on her desk, and sent Lana a lengthy look. She seemed... dull. She was normally focused, active. Even when she wasn't talkative she was still alert. Not this morning she wasn't. The girl was so distracted she missed Erin's hello and Erin lifted her untouched latte off of her desk and placed it on Lana's.

"You seem like you could use this."

"Hey, where's mine?" Ruzek came in and Erin rolled her eyes at him. Attwater chuckled behind him, and pulled out the seat to his desk.

"So what we got today, anything good?"

Lana listened to the chatter. The banter. Background noise that she rarely took part in some days but she had come to enjoy it. The way it filled the office, softened the harder moments.

It had felt foreign when she had first come here. Jokes and stories she had intentionally not gotten involved in, but they had snuck in anyway. Become a part of her life here.

She had had that back home. Connection with her fellow officers. It wasn't their fault it had been tainted by a bad memory. She could have that again. It might take a little time to rebuild it, but she could do it.

But did she even want to?

It got her thinking. She hadn't meant to make friends with any of the people here. But Erin, Antonio, even Burgess had somehow become something she would consider friends, and now even the idea of leaving hit her harder than she would have thought.

So she didn't think about it. She started on a case without considering if she really was going to leave her work. Leave that office.

Leave _him_.

There was nothing to leave. She knew that. She hadn't formed ties so she wouldn't have to cut them. In some stupid twist of irony she wondered if she had been waiting, hoping for the day to come where she would get to go home.

Now it was here and she had no idea what to do with it.

* * *

They were nearing lunch when Platt appeared at the top of the stairs.

"Visitor. For Lana."

She sounded entirely too pleasant, instead of how put out she usually was by having to bring in visitors, and Erin whipped around in interest.

Who ever he was, he was stunning. Tanned and blonde and undeniably gorgeous and when Jay nudged her arm for staring her look said "can you blame me?"

Jay shrugged, because he really couldn't.

"Good afternoon. I'm here to see, oh, there you are."

Lana stood from behind her computer screen. "Hey, what are you doing here?"

"Well, I figured it was near lunch. Thought I'd come see you."

He smiled, bright, and charming as he glanced at the group. "Are you going to introduce me?"

"Oh, uh of course, guys, this is Eric. My old partner."

She introduced the others, watched them shake his hand. He knew how to fill a room, that was for sure. But somehow, seeing him here among them, seeing the way he smiled with such command as Voight stepped out of his office to see what was going on. It felt like empty glitter.

Like his Miami sunshine didn't fit with the cold Chicago light coming through that window.

He looked immaculate, like he had taken extra care and it got under her skin. That detail. That reminder of what life with him had been like.

A particular place for both tooth brushes.

A mat for their shoes by the door.

And how freaking touched she had been that he had taken the time to set aside all those places for her in his apartment. Like it was his way of welcoming her into his life.

He was so eager. So technically correct. On the outside, a picture perfect poster child for the Miami Police Department. No one would ever dream of calling him a dirty cop. He was too perfect.

But they didn't know his secrets.

Maybe he really was better though, like he said was. Maybe he really had worked past all that darkness and was offering her something real. It hadn't been his fault, not at first. An injury had given him those pills, he hadn't sought them out. She couldn't blame his as much as she truly wanted to.

And she had missed it.

Working with him. The simplicity. The connection. She hadn't felt that since she left home.

She knew that was a lie.

It flashed, memory of the pressure of gentle touch, whispered words against her neck. _you really scared me today._ Wanting to fall apart beneath him.

Of casual smiles and working side by side.

She had felt that. No matter how badly she wanted to pretend she didn't. No matter how badly she wanted to pretend that there was nothing in her heart tied to anything here, she knew it wasn't true.

Maybe that was all the more reason to leave.

Eric knew her, how she operated and what she could do. They were a team. They had fit, for so long.

He seemed good, now. Clear. So different than how she had left him.

What if she really could get that back?

Shouldn't she want that? She had never wanted to leave Miami in the first place.

But now, she stared at the pile of folders on her desk as Eric chatted with Jay, at the solved cases and the cases that still needed to be solved. There was work to do here, a city full of people that needed their help. She had been a part of that.

But she had also been a part of the cover ups, the not so correct policies, and the looking the other way.

She had been a part of the paperwork, the cell traces. The being on hold with a judge for a warrant Voight hardly ever waited for anyway.

If she went back, if she went home, she would be a part of executing those warrants, the right way, without the worry of reconstructing the red tape after they had senselessly smashed right through it. She could be the officer she had always thought she would be. The one she had joined the police to become.

Logically, she could never be that here.

It should be an easy decision. Why did it feel so exhaustingly hard?

"Lani, have you eaten? We could grab a bite, catch up." Eric asked.

" _Lani_?" Antonio mouthed the nickname behind Eric in question, and Lana ignored him.

"Actually I have a lot of work to do here. Maybe later?"

She smiled, and Eric leaned back, gave her space. He was leaving in a few days and needed an answer. But somehow he wasn't concerned.

Lana belonged back in Miami with him. She was a good officer but she wasn't cut out for life here, Chicago crime and a questionable unit. She would realize that soon enough.

* * *

"We're grabbing a drink, wanna come?" Erin tossed her jacket over her arm and paused by Lana's desk, waiting for an answer.

"Uh, sure." Lana glanced at her computer screen, "I just gotta finish this up and I'll meet you there."

"You work too hard," Attwater shook his head, passing by and Antonio slapped him on the back.

"Someone's gotta pull your extra weight." He sent Lana a wink, "See you at Molly's."

They filed out after eachother, leaving her to fill in the last few lines of data. It didn't take long, Voight's door opening as she switched off her screen and he stopped.

"You're still here."

Lana looked down at herself like she was checking, "Yes sir. Just finished up."

"Before you go-" he hesitated, looking almost embarrassed, and Lana's curiosity piqued.

"What's up?" She pushed her chair out and stood, walking around her desk to him.

He looked like he wanted to dismiss it but she stopped in front of him, quietly expectant, and he sighed, pulling out his phone.

"Olive, my daughter-in-law, her birthday is coming up. I usually just call but I thought about maybe sending something," he shrugged, turning his phone to her so she could see the item pulled up on the screen.

She stepped closer, half holding the phone for a better look, fingers beside his own.

"I didn't really know what to get." he continued as she studied the pale green shaw on the screen."Erin told me just go with a gift card," he chuckled some, "But Camille always liked scarves. I thought maybe Olive would too."

"Camille?"

"My wife." The way he said it. She could feel the fondness. The loss. "She always knew what to get people, I usually just had to sign a card and be done with it."

"What happened to her?" she asked softly.

"Cancer," a hard word in his gruff voice and compassion lanced her heart.

"I'm so sorry, Hank."

Voight stared down at her, wondering if she was aware. That she had stepped closer in instinctive comfort, that her fingers now covered his own.

Voight was used to not being seen, not as a person anyway. He was a sergeant, a questionable cop. People didn't waste time looking deeper and he usually didn't give them the chance to try. But Lana. Somehow that person underneath is what she saw first. Everything else, that he was a cop, her sergeant, they got layered on after.

He knew it was just who she was. She tried to keep herself apart from others, drew lines so no one could cross them, but she kept failing. Her heart kept showing through. It filled her eyes whenever she faced someone hurting, poured out of her like she just couldn't help it.

She just didn't know how much it pulled at him, the thought of being cared for. By her.

Innocent concern she would show for anyone and he was drawn to it like a man half starved.

It would be pathetic, if she didn't deserve every ounce of longing she brought out in him. But she did.

He couldn't be ashamed for wanting her. Couldn't feel weak for not being able to move past this. Pretending he could would be an insult.

"Thank you, Lana," he answered softly, and her fingers squeezed his before letting go.

She didn't step back. "It's a beautiful gift. Olive should love it."

She watched Voight slide his phone into his pocket, take an idle glance at the empty office.

"You got a lot done today," he acknowledged. She had wrapped up every loose end she could get her hands on, and Lana laughed a little.

"Yeah it's amazing what you can do when you're trying to only think about work."

Voight studied her, the line of tension between her shoulders. "I saw Detective Watts stopped by."

"I didn't ask him to," Lana half scowled, fingers trailing over her brow,"I have no idea what to do about him."

"Ignoring him only works for so long," Voight pointed out, and she sent him a pointed look. Like he was one to talk about running from problems.

"If it wasn't for the detective," he began after a minute of silence, pausing, not even sure if he wanted to ask. "Would you take the job?"

She looked surprised, like it wasn't something she had even taken into consideration. Her eyes, her expression, they spelled out the truth before she ever spoke the words.

She didn't know.

* * *

"Hey, bout time you showed up." Antonio waved down Herman to grab her a beer, voice raised over the clamor of a nearby table. It was packed, and Lana had to weave her way through a couple firemen to climb up onto the stool beside Antonio.

"Thanks!" she took a swig and glanced around. "Where is everyone?"

Antonio waved a hand towards the back, "Grabbing a table that just opened. I wanted to grab you when you came in. Are you taking it?"

"What?!" Lana could hardly hear him, and he stuck his chin right by her ear.

"The job."

"eek!" his five o'clock shadow scratched and she shoved him back as he laughed. "Oh not you too," she muttered, but he missed it over the noise.

"I dunno!" She raised her bottle to his, "And I'm not deciding tonight."

He clanked the glass together like that was enough of an answer for now, and nodded to where Jay was waving to get their attention. They had found a big enough table and Lana wormed her way through the crowd.

"Look who we found!" Jay yelled in greeting, turning to the man at his side and Lana resisted the urge to down her entire bottle then and there.

Eric was at their table, sleeves rolled up like a man just out of the office, and Lana slipped on a smile.

"Hey! Having fun?"

She took the seat across from him, ordered another beer before her first one ran out. Ruzek got Eric talking, about the job back in Miami and the cases they had seen. Stories tossed back and forth to one up eachother, Erin interrupting to correct the details Ruzek stretched a little too much. They seemed to be having a good time. Laughing. Blowing off steam. Everyone always loved Eric.

He told them all about how they had been partners, cute little stories designed to make her blush. Made it obvious to anyone half watching that they had been together. He wouldn't outright say it, but the looks Erin were sending her said she was gonna want more details later.

Lana was getting tired out it. She wasn't even sure of what exactly, but she finished her third beer and slid a little closer to Antonio on the booth beside her. He went to move, thinking she wanted more room but when she dropped her shoulder against his arm he paused.

She glanced up at him, brow cocked just enough for him to get the point, smile intentionally sweet and he coughed back a laugh.

He didn't know hardly any of the details but he could piece enough together. This guy had been with Lana and he had made her mad. Antonio was content to go along with just about anything.

He sat back, let his arm drape across the back of the seat behind her in unspoken question. When she inched closer again he settled it around her shoulders.

Ruzek had frozen with a fry half way to his mouth, staring at them from beside Eric like he couldn't comprehend what was happening. A swift kick under the table and he dropped his fry. Scooped it back up and kept eating like he was just gonna mind his own business.

Antonio reached over and snagged a wing from Lana's plate, responded to something Eric had said with an ease that reminded Lana she was sitting here with one of the best undercover cops she knew. This was probably fun for him.

She felt Eric's eyes on her, more than once, but she didn't bother looking back. Maybe she had been wrong about him. Maybe she should feel guilty for how she had treated him over nothing. But everything about him was overwhelming right now and she just wanted a break.

Sliding out of her seat, she headed for the restroom, not surprised when Erin hopped up to follow. Lana turned on the faucet, let cold water run between her fingers, pass over her wrists. She flicked her fingers dry as Erin finished checking her hair in the mirror and handed her a paper hand towel.

"Thanks," Lana dried her hands, trying to ignore the way Erin was leaned up against the counter beside her, smiling.

"So exactly how jealous are we trying to make this guy..."

Lana rolled her eyes, tossing the crumpled towel into the trash, shaking her head at the other woman.

"...Because I could tell stories. Like that time Voight caught you and Antonio in the breakroom," Erin gasped in mock horror, "Scandalous."

Lana's heart clenched at the name. What was she doing? She didn't want to be here playing stupid games.

"I'm not trying to make him jealous, Erin."

"Wait. You and Antonio aren't actually..." The look on Erin's face, Lana almost laughed.

"Of course not." Lana pressed her fingers into the cold counter. "I just, I wanted him to stop talking like we were something we aren't. Giving everyone the impression that there was still something between us."

"Huh," Erin folded her arms, looking Lana over like doing so connected the dots. "You wanted him to know you have a life here he's not a part of."

Lana shrugged, "Yeah. I guess."

Erin smirked, "Oh then I'm definitely telling stories."

* * *

Lana's ears burned. Erin hadn't held back and Antonio had just rolled with it. By the end of the night she had heard enough veiled stories of her and Antonio's involvement to half believe it herself.

She cut out early, waved Antonio off when he tried to walk her home. She needed the quiet.

But the quiet echoed back at her as she walked. Thoughts thrown back at her every time she pushed them away like some sloppy drunken ping pong.

Erin, Antonio. They had stepped up so willingly, even when they thought all she wanted to do was make an ex jealous. They were down to help her out no questions asked. All so she could show him something that wasn't even true.

She wanted to show Eric she had a life here he wasn't apart of? Then why did they have to lie to prove it. Make up stories about the connections, the relationships.

Because they didn't really exist.

For a tangled second she was jealous of the person in Erin's ridiculous anecdotes. The one who was such a vibrant part of Intelligence. Everything she had intentionally _not_ been.

She had seen what forming ties did, got you twisted up so bad you didn't know what was the truth. She had let her heart get in the way of being a good cop and she never wanted to do that again.

Atleast if she went home she wouldn't be tempted. One way or another, Eric was a mistake she would never make again. She could work with him, for him, but deep down she knew she would never want him.

And maybe that's exactly what she needed.


	15. 15. Late

...She had seen what forming ties did, got you twisted up so bad you didn't know what was the truth. She had let her heart get in the way of being a good cop and she never wanted to do that again.

Atleast if she went home she wouldn't be tempted. One way or another, Eric was a mistake she would never make again. She could work with him, for him, but deep down she knew she would never want him.

And maybe that's exactly what she needed.

Because she couldn't do that here.

They had been so simple. Safe because it hadn't mattered. But then his touch had made her feel more than she had bargained for. He had let a scrap of connection through, and it had terrified her.

He had to understand that, after all, he hadn't wanted it either. Not anything real. He had shoved her concern away first, when she had heard about Justin.

Voight had never wanted to _mean_ anything to her.

It wasn't his fault.

She neared the parking lot of a familiar bar, feet slowing as she passed the people heading back to their cars, pretending she wasn't searching.

It was dark, she wouldn't have recognized him if she hadn't noticed his car in the lot, if she hadn't taken this way home from Molly's because she convinced herself it was 30 seconds quicker.

She would have barely seen him if she hadn't been looking and he looked up as she called his name.

He stepped nearer into the ring of a street light and her mouth dropped open.

* * *

Voight downed another drink, felt the burn against his throat as he swallowed. He knew his team was out at Molly's, blowing off steam and wasting an evening together. It was good, them doing that. He was a little too used to doing it alone.

There was a thump from down the bar, a drink spilled and a muddled curse before an argument broke out. Voight glanced up in irritation, he wasn't in the mood to deal with a couple of drunks shaping up to do something stupid.

The bartender could usually handle this kind of crap, but he was in the back. With a long suffering growl, Voight stepped in.

He grabbed the arm of the larger one before he could swing again, slammed him hard against the bar, "Knock it off!"

He glanced at the guy next to him in time to duck, the glass the man had thrown shattering against the back wall. Voight cursed as sharp shards stung his face.

"Hey!" Mikey was out from the back now, and he grabbed the guy by the collar. Mikey was not a small man, but he was quick and he pressed the drunk's face into the bar.

"I don't like people breaking stuff in my bar. Get out. and don't come back. Both of ya."

He sent the one Voight held a scowl as Voight let him go, and Mikey shoved his away.

"You alright?" He tossed a towel at Voight, frowning at the blood dripping from his cheek.

"Yeah," Voight pressed at the cuts, trying to staunch the bleeding, head wounds always bled worse than they were. "Just scratched."

He fished his wallet out with his other hand, but Mikey waved him off. "Tonight's on the house. Thanks for the help. And you might wanna get that looked at." He jerked his chin as Voight's head.

"Yeah," Voight grunted, before grabbing up his jacket.

It was colder than he was expecting, and his face stung. He was going to get blood all over his car. This was shaping up to be one hell of a night. He dug out his keys, but hesitated.

He was only a block away from Milani's apartment.

Voight rolled his eyes, he wasn't hurt bad enough to bother her and he knew it. He had a first aide kit in the trunk, he had handled worse himself before.

"Voight?" her voice interrupted everything, and Voight turned. Lana had paused on the sidewalk, under the light of a cracked street light. Her jacket was pulled tight, arms wrapped around her stomach like she was fighting off the cold. She still wasn't quite used to it, losing that Miami warmth.

"Hey Milani," he grimaced as his cheek twinged, and Lana stepped closer.

"You're hurt." The shadow of blood lay thick on his cheek, his hand pressed to cover a wound she couldn't see.

"I'm fine," Voight spoke as she approached, saw the worry in her eye.

"You don't look it." Her fingers touched his chin, turning his face to the light. Her hands were cold, and he shivered when her thumb brushed the corner of his lip.

"You should get this cleaned up," she stepped back, nodding her head down the road, "My place isn't far."

"I remember."

Lana felt her stomach tighten.

He didn't know why he said it, why his voice had dropped. Why his eyes tracked the way she paused, glanced back at him with a gaze that flashed wide.

He walked beside her, as silent as the night they had met, followed her down empty streets to her apartment.

She clicked the light on, dropped her keys on that little table by the door. Frowned when she saw him in the full light.

"You look awful."

"Thanks."

She rolled her eyes a little, "Come on."

She stepped into the bathroom and pulled her first aide kit out of the cabinet, glanced at him, filling her doorway. He was watching her, with the kind of silence she didn't like.

It got her thinking, about his first time here and all the times after. Remembering. How her long days had ended with something solid to turn to.

She _missed_ that. Lately it was like one day's frustrations just rolled into the next.

"You gonna tell me what happened?" She let the water run warm before wringing out her cloth. He stepped forward in the small space, let her wipe away the blood.

Voight could have done it, she could have handed him the washcloth and given him space. There was no reason to stand just a little closer than necessary, study his eyes as she cleaned his wound.

"Broke up a bar fight," he winced as she touched a deeper cut, his hand catching her wrist.

"Sorry." She didn't like the tremble in her voice. Didn't recognize the nervous pit of energy turning in her stomach.

She taped the gauze across the one cut deep enough to need it, smoothed the edge of the tape longer than it needed.

Lana knew, she _knew_ what wanting did to a person. She knew caring made her weak.

Maybe she shouldn't have had those drinks at Molly's, maybe she shouldn't have taken the long way home. Hoping that she would run into him.

Right now she was too weak to care.

Erin's stories filled her mind, the lies mocking the life she didn't have, the connections she hadn't made. The thought of leaving, that she really might walk away so she didn't have to keep fighting this, it made her want to give in. Just one more time.

She could pretend it meant nothing just for a chance to feel him again. Act like she wasn't doing the very thing that she swore she never would again, to let herself want.

There was a fraction of space between them. Her fingers close around the extra gauze, rests on the edge of the sink. She could feel her heart beat, nervous, quickening. He was watching her with careful eyes and she wondered, could he see it, what she wanted?

Did his heart beat faster because he knew hers did?

He had a way of reading people, staring down suspects until they felt exposed without ever opening their mouths. There wasn't much you could hide from Hank Voight, and her hands trembled as she moved.

"You got blood," she swallowed as her fingers slipped along his collar, "On your shirt."

She toyed with the button at the top, aware of his eyes with an intensity she felt in her pulse. She popped the button open, felt his breath deepen in his chest as her fingers slid to the next.

"It's just a shirt," an attempt to interject reason, but they both heard it, the strain in his voice.

She tugged another button free, turning as his body stepped nearer with the pull of her hands. Her back hit the sink, his hand closing around the door jam beside them. Holding himself just enough back she saw the tension in the muscles of his arm.

She tilted her head up at him, "do you want me to stop?"

Her lips brushed his with the words, barely a kiss. His hand slipped against her side as she arches closer, her lips more urgent against his.

"Lana..."

Her gasp came as his lips responded, hands tugging her against him. She had learned this, how it would go. The demand of his hands and the need in his kiss. That urgent release of all the weight he carries when she gives him something he can use to forget. How they had always been, heated and yet so calculating, and her heart revolted against it.

She thought she could do it, play it their usual way, but she didn't want an empty touch. She didn't want cold motions. She wants to let herself feel what it was really like against him.

Hank feels her hands, light against the back of his neck, pads of each finger pressing into his shoulder blades. She's taking her time, feeling him in a way she never had before, kissing him longer. Deeper. And everything in him wants to respond.

To have her hair threaded through his fingers, her breath in his ear as he kisses her throat. To leave no doubt in the way he touches her that she is everything to him.

To show her slowly, in a thousand different ways.

He wants to love her. And he knows he never can.

Her heart is pounding like it might break and a sound leaves her when his kiss suddenly ends.

"Wait," his forehead drops against hers, breathing a struggle for air. "I can't."

A crack to her beating heart.

"I can't give you what you want, Lana."

Hank knows what she's looking for. Action, and reaction. They had played that game time and again and he knew it. But he can't do it, can't hold her and pretend it's not affecting every part of him.

_She didn't come here for that_. He can't handle that rejection again.

Lana was fighting her heart, to stay steady. Not to break. He knew. She had messed up. He could feel what she wanted and he couldn't give it. Of course he couldn't.

She should save face and walk away. Should remember what she had been trying to teach herself all along. Shove him out of her life for good.

But she didn't. She wanted more.

Lana sucked in a breath, unable to let go. "I want whatever you want to give me, Hank."

Voight laughed. Humourless and out of breath, head still resting against hers. He was completely screwed. He couldn't walk away from that. He wasn't strong enough.

They come together as she turns out the light.

They're holding back, locked in a silent battle between what they want and what they think they're allowed to give. The darkness hides. The tear of relief that spills from her eye when his kiss reclaims her. The silent way his lips speak her name.

His hand grips the sheets to stop from holding her.

Her mouth marks his shoulder to hold back the words.

_stay. please_.

He gets dressed in the dark.

She dreams about him holding her.

* * *

Steam curled from the cup in his hand, resting on the cold metal railing. The dawn stretched the horizon. Colors spilled out onto the Chicago river, golden light mirrored by the city behind him, spreading in a reflection of steel and glass.

He took a sip of his coffee, inhaling slowly, thoughts full of last night, the way she had touched him. His hands shook and he gripped the railing.

It had felt different. He had argued with himself for hours, knew how easy it was to see what you wanted to see, but he couldn't silence it.

_I want whatever you want to give me, Hank_.

Would she have said that, if she knew how much it was he wanted to give. If she had any idea?

The sounds of the city drifted like a haze through the waking air behind him. It was just noise to some people, but it was the voice of the city he served. A constant murmur in the background that kept him grounded, kept him focused.

Voight pushed off from the railing and grabbed his coffee. It was time to get to work.

* * *

Antonio lips curled in mild surprise as the other officer stepped off of the stairs. Ruzek was here early.

"Yo," the younger officer dropped into his chair and scooted it beside Antonio's desk. "What was up with you and Lana last night, man?"

He missed Antonio's quick frown, the warning glance he sent to where Voight stood scribbling on the white board. Ruzek never paid enough attention to who he talked in front of.

"It was nothing."

Ruzek wasn't convinced. "Dude you were basically on top of her. That isn't 'nothing.'"

Voight's hand paused on the board. Antonio could have strangled Alan. The last thing anyone needed was for Ruzek to be putting any thoughts in Voight's head that there was interoffice nonsense going on. He had dodged that bullet with Lana once already and Voight had been irritable enough then.

"She was trying to make an ex jealous. I was happy to help." Antonio spread his hands like Ruzek was making a deal out of nothing and tried shooing him away. Erin had come in and he didn't want this conversation getting any bigger. But Erin atleast had a brain in her head.

"I bet you were happy." Ruzek smirked, "She need help with anything else?"

He didn't know what had gotten into Ruzek but Antonio's hand came down on his desk. "Hey!" he pointed a warning finger at him before giving up. "Can you smack him for me?" he requested, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as Erin passed by on her way to her desk.

She obliged, no questions asked.

She paused when she spotted Voight, the tip of the marker snapped off in his hand, red ink staining his fingers.

How on earth had he managed to do that?

* * *

Voight stepped off the stairs, intent on crossing the lobby without speaking to anyone when Trudy waved him down.

"Hey," she saw the scratches on his face and disregarded them. If she questioned every bump and bruise that man showed up with she wouldn't have any time left for her job. She leaned over the front desk, voice low, "What's going on there?"

Voight glanced through the filling lobby at her nod.

Detective Watts stood in the doorway of the captain's officer. She was seeing him out with a smile, like they were old friends. Voight felt like he was burning from the inside out. This man was everything he couldn't stand to see happening and he was standing there, shaking the captain's hand.

Voight swore with more force than Trudy had heard from him in a while, and she pressed back some.

"Well what's gotten into you. You know something I should know?"

Voight shook his head. "I don't know why he's seeing the Captain. You gonna bother me with anything else that has nothing to do with me, or can I go now?"

Trudy snorted. "Such a charmer."

Hank went to leave.

"I'll let you know if I learn anything," she added. She knew he would want to know and had zero intentions of not finding out.

Voight shook his head, swallowing back anger as he walked away, trying to focus on anything other than what Antonio had said.

_She was making Eric jealous_.

Did she call him, after Voight had left last night, let it slip that someone had been over? Did Eric even know it was him, or was he just a nameless means to an end?

His phone buzzed enough to interrupt him and he yanked it out. Erin was calling him from upstairs. that meant it was important enough she couldn't wait for him to get back up there and he answered it with a frown.

* * *

Lana shoved the door open with her forearm, trying not to spill her coffee. Her shirt was damp because she had forgotten to put her stupid load in the stupid dryer and she could feel it sticking to her beneath her jacket. She had been running behind all morning.

Days like today made her question how she ever pretended to have her life together.

The lobby was busy, officers and civilians milling about for a dozen different reasons and every single one of them was making it difficult to get to the stairs.

A lady in front of her stepped back without looking, Lana jerked to a stop and her coffee splashed on her hand.

"Gah." Lana hissed at the hot liquid, switched her cup to her other hand and stuck the side of her thumb in her mouth. That had freaking hurt.

"Problem?" her gaze jerked up at the voice. Voight was watching her, witnessing every clumsy disheveled moment and her cheeks flared hot as her stomach flipped in surprise.

Lana shook her hand out with as much dignity she could muster. "No sir."

"Good. You're with me." He nodded his head toward the entrance to the garage, cut his way through the crowd. People stepped out of his way and she stayed in his wake.

She felt the abrupt silence of the parking garage like a change in the atmosphere, but Voight didn't slow.

"Erin got a call," he spoke over his shoulder, "Case we were working before your time. A witness of hers just gave us a lead."

She ducked into the passenger seat, traded her coffee for the tablet he handed her and he set her coffee into the cup holder. No good morning. No hello. No time for anything but business and Lana told herself to focus.

They had been through this before. Last night didn't get to make its way through the precinct doors and on to the job with them. She knew that. But even still. Something seemed off.

The files were already pulled up on the screen. A missing child's case that was marked closed.

"It says here the girl was found?" she asked, glancing up from the screen, and Voight nodded.

"Yeah. In an old school building. They found a guy on scene. He fit the description of the guy witnesses say took her. He was mentally unstable. Eventually confessed. but Erin was never convinced it was him."

Lana scrolled through the reports. It seemed pretty cut and dry on paper.

"What did you think?" Lana asked, but Voight shook his head.

"I wasn't on the case," he felt the question coming and answered it, "It was right after Justin."

He had taken some time. Maybe too much time even though people kept telling him it hadn't been enough. Intelligence had gotten along fine without him, but Erin hadn't been able to let this case go. He trusted her gut well enough to believe there was a good reason why.

When she had gotten a call from a frantic woman claiming to have seen the man she had witnessed take that poor girl all those months ago, Erin hadn't hesitated and the team wasn't going to either.

"Witness says he entered a park but then she lost sight of him. We find him, we grab him. You get an ID and get a connection to this other case. Reopening this might take everything we got."

They were the first ones on scene, a busy neighborhood playground with kids running between blue metal poles and parents dotting the benches. It was open enough they had a good vantage point of the playground, just not the walking paths in the back, and Voight shut off the engine.

"Keep an eye out." His tone was clipped. Not just normal focus. He was irritated.

They needed the witness to make an Id but they had a working description, and they scanned the crowd, looking for anyone who stood out.

She went to ask something that a yawn interrupted and Lana pressed her hand over her mouth.

"Sorry," she said at his glance. It felt accusing, like there was something she was missing and she laughed a little awkwardly, "I'm a little worn out."

Voight didn't look amused. His mouth worked once. "I don't care what you do off shift, Milani, just don't bring it on shift with you."

Lana's jaw dropped. It felt like she had just been slapped and she was still a little stunned by it.

He didn't break his focus on the park, on the people milling about.

Erin's car pulled up across the way. Voight stepped out of the car, nodding for Lana to follow, ignoring the look on her face. The case had made the news before, and this guy might recognize Erin. She would hold perimeter. They were going in. He shrugged into his jacket, and reached back in for her coffee, came around the car and nudged her arm. "Let's take a walk."

They followed the little stone path into the park. She sipped her coffee and kept pace just beside him. He was intentionally close, his sleeve brushing hers, leaning in to speak like they were on a stroll together.

There were little shouts and laughter as children played, the sun just bright and warm enough to remind them it was there. The air was still, not cut by cold wind and it was exactly the kind of scene Lana could have enjoyed.

If they weren't stalking a child predator.

Voight was angry. It was controlled but she could feel it, like a pulse from him into the unsuspecting air around them. He dipped his head closer as he responded to the comms, like he was talking to her, perfectly in character. Jay and Olinski had entered from the east. Their gazes met and it was cold. She had seen his anger before, when cases hit too close and his temper broke. When that control slipped. He burned with it.

But this, it didn't. It didn't feel like anger. And she suddenly wasn't convinced it had anything to do with the case.

The path they walked led into the trees, and Voight paused.

"Hang back around the park. Radio if you see anything."

He left her, hands in his pockets he strolled away and Lana stretched her back, drained the last of her coffee and dropped into a nearby trash bin. She wandered back, checking faces as she passed, filtering them through the description in her mind.

That look in Voight's eyes, it stayed like a touch barely there at the back of her neck and she resisted the urge to physically shake it off.

An errant soccer ball bounced across the path, a mom yelled at her kid for not being careful and Lana watched it roll to a stop at the base of a bush. She stepped over and bent to retrieve it, could have tossed it back, but walked it over to the kid instead.

"Thank you," the mom shook her head as the boy took off with the ball, "I'm sorry about. We're still working on spacial awareness." She laughed a little, and Lana smiled.

"Oh, no worries." She popped a hand on her forehead and looked around, "You know, I was actually supposed to be meeting my cousin here, but can't find him. He's kinda tall, brown hair, glasses. You haven't happened to have seen him, have you?"

"Um, no I don't think so, sorry," the woman shrugged, and Lana thanked her anyway.

It hadn't panned out, but it was worth a shot, and Lana headed back toward the path.

The wind was picking up a little, and she stuffed her hands in her pockets. The play area was clear, no one even close to matching who she was looking for, and Lana went to check the small bathrooms.

Comms had been quiet, no updates, no one had found him, and she began to wonder if they had missed him entirely. She rounded the corner of the little grey building and caught sight of a guy near the end. He was short, blonde and clean shaven. Nothing fit, but he drew her eye. He saw her but ignored her, not exactly abnormal public behavior, still she couldn't shake the feeling that something was off about him. But she hadn't felt right since she had stepped out of that car.

"Excuse me," she approached him with a friendly enough smile. He glanced behind him like he wasn't sure who she was talking to, then squinted a little at her in confusion. "Sorry to bother you."

"Can I help you?" his voice had a sharp nasal sound, like he had a cold, and the way he shuffled down into his coat showed he wasn't comfortable.

"Maybe, I was looking for a friend of mine, was wondering if you had seen him?"

She rattled off the description, watched him turn those squinty eyes to the sky as if in thought.

"You know I think I may have, headed down there," he pointed to an old ball court in the back that had been out of commission for a while.

"Huh, well thank you for your time."

He rubbed his nose, nodding a sniffly 'you're welcome,' and Lana scowled down at the ball court.

"Got a match on the description. Suspect was seen heading towards the southern court." she spoke quietly as she walked.

Her comms crackled, nothing but a static response, and Lana rubbed her ear, discreetly tapping her comms.

She growled under her breath, just what she needed.

That feeling was there at the back of her neck, like a cold hand closing and Lana grimaced, ignoring it, trying to get her comms to work. There was a sound, hardly louder than the static. A footstep just behind.

She turned a moment too late.


	16. Now

"West path clear."

"East is good." Antonio answered Jay's report. "Anything at the play area?"

There was silence and Voight's voice came through. "You got anything, Milani?"

More silence followed, and Antonio frowned. "Anyone got eyes on Milani?"

"Negative." Olinsky responded.

"Keep looking. I'll double back. Eyes open everyone." Voight commanded, and Antonio turned forward with a shrug.

* * *

Voight tried her again, getting nothing back. It could just be faulty tech but he didn't like this. He scanned the playground, spotted the buildings to the side and headed towards them, retracing her likely search.

He reached the back of the buildings, stepped into a chilling scene. Milani was there, paused on the path the to ball courts. Her back was to a man who approached her, her focus on anything but the knife in his hand.

There wasn't thought, just reaction. Years of experience pulled his weapon, trained it on the man who lunged for Lana and Voight took the shot.

Lana lurched around, staring at the body as the shot rang in her ears.

It echoed, across the open field and someone screamed. She could imagine, parents grabbing their children, the panic and fear following the sound.

Lana kicked the knife away from a lifeless hand, it registering that this man had tried to use it on her but it didn't quite sink in. Her own training carried her through the motions of securing the scene.

She was calm until Voight reached her, jerked her around to face him. Anger clouded his face, the red kind of fury and a spike of adrenaline went through her heart.

"What the hell was that, Milani!" His finger jabbed at the man on the ground, "Where was your head at, huh?!"

He couldn't stand there and look at her. She had almost taken a knife to the back. Could be lying dead where that man lay instead. It filled his mind, an image he couldn't get out.

She went to answer and he cut her off.

"Go get in the car."

She blinked, dumbfounded.

"GET IN THE CAR!"

One step back, then another, Voight's angry shout echoing like that shot in her mind.

Erin was shouting through the comms, and Voight finally heard it. He winced away, snapping out enough details to get her to be quiet.

"Where's Lana," Antonio came sprinting up, taking in the man on the ground, eyes sweeping the scene.

"The car. I'll deal with her later," he jerked his had at the man he had shot, "Call it in."

"Is she alright?" Antonio demanded, and Voight sent him a painfully calm look Antonio recognized too well.

She wouldn't be once Voight was done with her. They had just taken down a guy in a city park. This was going to a bureaucratic nightmare.

Antonio resisted the urge to try and pull Voight back. They had all faced Voight after a particularly stupid mistake, if this was Lana's? Well. She could handle it.

He got to work securing the scene, and just hoped this didn't give her more ammunition to take that job in Miami.

* * *

Her hands were shaking.

It wasn't the first shooting she had seen. Not by a long shot. Wasn't the first time she had brushed death either. She had made plenty of mistakes as a rookie, owed her life to the officers around her. Considered it a friendly debt repaid when some of them ended up owing her back.

But this time...

The door opened and she jumped, cursed under her breath before peering up at Erin.

"Are you alright, come here." Erin tugged her out and gave her a hug, a move so unexpected Lana practically stuttered.

" , mad at myself is all."

"What happened?" There was real concern in her eyes, a little frown around her lips as she looked at her.

"I, uh, approached a man with a description of the suspect." Her stomach turned at the pathetic shake to her voice. Lana cleared her throat, gaze zeroing in over Erin's shoulder at Voight, headed their way.

"Yeah, and then what?" Erin prompted, and Lana shook her head.

"He pointed me towards the lower courts. I fed the intel into the comms when no one responded. I was trying to fix them when..." she trailed off. "I didn't notice him behind me. Voight took him out."

Erin would have responded but Voight didn't give her the chance. Brushed past her like she wasn't there and stepped face to face with Lana.

"You wanna explain yourself, Milani."

He was not an overly large man but he crowded the air people needed to breath when he was looking for answers. She had seem him go toe to toe with enough suspects to know the pressure just his presence could give and her chest felt tight.

"Woah," Erin interjected, shooting Voight an annoyed look. "The guy didn't appear a threat, Voight. It happens."

"You aren't in this, Lindsey. When I want your opinion I'll ask for your report."

Abject dismissal. Erin's lip curled but she backed off. Going against Voight when he was like this was one even she couldn't win.

He faced down Lana, noticing everything. The small shake to her breath as she inhaled, fingers that thread around eachother before her hands disappeared behind her back. It gutted his simmering anger, but there was only more to replace it.

If he hadn't gotten there, hadn't seen the blade in the time... Voight swore.

"I messed up."

"That's obvious, Milani. Missing a threat is a rookie mistake. You should be dead."

She winced as he said it, and his stomach dropped like empty weight. He didn't want to be doing this, shouting her down when the only thing he needed was to be sure she was okay. But that wasn't his job and it wasn't his place and right now she was still his officer who needed to explain herself.

"I didn't miss it."

Voight scoffed. "You telling me that that's what you look like when you're defending yourself?"

She didn't react. Took a calming breath that he watched rise and fall. Too calm. Where was her anger, her defense? That fire his needed to keep burning against?

Voight couldn't rail against stone.

"I mean I recognized he was a threat." Cool, and clear, she shook out her shoulders and raised her head, "And I dismissed it."

Lana had sensed that man was somehow off and thought it was her own stupid distractions. Years on the job and she had turned her back on a threat. It was difficult, to fail that hard, but she had managed.

And now she got to witness it, the moment he realized what kind of cop she was.

Distracted. Weak.

He stepped back, anger gone. Replaced with what, disappointment?

"Wait here."

Lana obeyed.

* * *

It was a silent drive back. The others had canvassed the surrounding area, never found the original suspect. Voight? He had calmed into something worse than anger.

It was like she wasn't even there.

There was work to do. ID the man that was killed. Find a connection, a reason. Her day wasn't over yet but it felt like weeks had passed since last night.

Voight entered the precinct ahead of her, held the door for her to grab it and didn't look her way.

The captain flagged him down in the lobby, and Lana slipped up the stairs.

* * *

"I hear Officer Milani has been in the field."

There was very little preamble, and Voight's brow popped. "And? She's a useful asset."

"Who isn't cleared for field work," the captain's voice stressed the obvious and Voight glanced away in irritation. This wasn't worth even dealing with right now. How the captain hadn't caught wind of the shooting in the park yet, he had no idea, but he shrugged at the woman.

"She's inactive. Just surveillance."

A lie. But he didn't back down.

"She isn't cleared," The captain reiterated, her tone meant to end the discussion but one look at Voight said that wasn't happening.

"This is my precinct, Sergeant. And she is _my_ officer. If she can't follow the restrictions of her position then she does not have a place here. Am I understood?"

Voight nodded once. "Anything else, Captain?" He was leaving this conversation regardless of her answer.

Her frown was subtle, but it was blatant in her eyes.

"Dismissed."

Trudy waved him down before he made the stairs. Voight pressed a hand to his forehead before crossing over. How on earth could there be something else he had to listen to right now.

"I heard what that Eric was up to," she leaned in, and Voight sent a glance to the captain's door. He had forgotten, seeing Eric here. How could that have only been a few hours ago? The captain's concern with Milani being in the field now made an irritating amount of sense.

"Yeah, I think I figured that one out." He went to leave, but turned back. "Do me a favor,"

She raised a brow like she was considering it, but when she met his gaze her haughty expression dropped.

She hadn't seen Voight like this in a long time. Worn to the point he was numb.

"Yeah, name it."

"If Detective Watts shows up, don't let him up."

Trudy smoothed her hands over the counter, "You got it."

She watched the man walk away that she had known for decades, and shook her head.

What in heaven's name was happening in her precinct?

* * *

Voight stopped by Lana's desk. She was scanning the screen in front of her, focused. Working. Harder than any of them sometimes it seemed. She didn't deserve this. The captain could be a piece of work but she didn't make empty threats.

"Lana."

The others weren't back yet, and her head came up. He could see it in her eyes, faint bracing to be yelled at again.

His voice was quiet. "You're out of the field."

There was a soft sound, like pained surprise.

"Voight..." she didn't seem to know what to say, how to argue. And Voight shook his head.

"You're either out of the field or you're out of my unit." He shrugged once, empty, "Up to you."

* * *

She found a name. The man Voight had shot was Olin Zchawski. Known associates, Melvin Ringman. Melvin fit every description, the witness confirmed it. They had the identity of their guy.

Finding the connections. The hows. The whys. That would take time.

But they would do it. She didn't doubt that for a moment. An innocent man was jailed for something he hadn't done. The true offender was walking free. It was the kind of wrong this unit was built to right.

She had been a part of it. Had tried to earn a place here in the job. In the team.

They had given it. Voight had given that.

And she had messed that up.

Shift ended quietly. The others had filtered out as the end of the day neared, wrapping up the hour out of the office.

Voight's door was closed and she didn't care. Her report from earlier was only half finished.

Yeah, she had owned up to her mistake, told Voight. But somehow writing it down, signing it. She couldn't stomach it.

She clicked off the light as she left. Walked home under a beautiful sky.

It could have been a perfect day.

And now it couldn't get much worse.

* * *

It got worse.

Eric was waiting for her at her door, hurried forward as she stepped off of the stairs.

"My word, Lani, are you alright? I heard what happened."

She opened her mouth to tell him to get lost in the strongest vocabulary she could possibly manage when he held up a white paper bag, "I grabbed some take out, wanted to make sure you were okay."

Of course he had, the one thing that would make her even consider dealing with a conversation with him right now. Lana was starving.

She unlocked her door, snatched the carryout bag and went inside. She didn't invite him in but he followed anyway.

"I'm surprised Antonio isn't here with you," Eric commented, casually fishing and Lana glared at him as she stuffed a piece of buttered roll in her mouth.

"Why are you here."

Eric drew in an expanding breath, visually preparing to say something important and Lana chewed loudly while she waited, not caring if it would irritate him.

"I have to return home soon, Lani. I'm going to need your answer by tomorrow."

Lana set her bread down. She looked at him, pressed collar of his shirt laying neatly against his tan skin, white enough to match the flash of his smile. It would never be dark, slightly rumpled, with buttons that gave way beneath her fingers, with blood on the collar as she pushed it away and left it crumpled on her bathroom floor...

"Come on, Lani," Eric's voice had her blinking back, a little surprised with herself for getting distracted by a shirt.

"What?" Lana picked up her bread again.

"Come home," Eric stepped forward, eyes so full of invitation, "Come home and-"

"And what? Be your assistant? File reports? I can't go in the _field_ , Eric."

Why did it feel like she was reliving it all over again? After her last doctor's visit, hearing the verdict, that she was being taken from active field work. That ache. That loss. She turned away angrily and Eric held up his hands.

"I know, Lani. But you can't do that here, either. So why don't you come home?"

But she _had_ done that here. For weeks she had gotten a chance to be out there again. Now she had lost it all due to a bad call and she couldn't even blame Voight for pulling her.

Eric was waiting for an answer, and Lana gave the most basic answer she could find. "This is a good unit, Eric. We do good work."

He stepped forward, pressing, "You can't work for a man like Voight, Lani. You can't trust him." He saw her indignant reply and headed off her argument. "How long until he asks you to do something that compromises yourself, our your job?"

He could see it, in the way her words sparked and died. He knew it was true and so did she. Voight had probably already gotten her to do things she never would have agreed to back home, and a piece of her would never be okay with that

"You mean like you did?" He wasn't expecting the ice, brittle calm in her eyes, "And now you want me to work for you?"

Eric back pedaled. "That was different." He sighed, voice deceptively gentle, "Are you really going to let one past mistake of mine stop you from working for me, and ignore his _constant_ bad decisions? You're not a hypocrite, Lani."

Lana felt the heat of anger like it was suffocated in her chest. "It _was_ different, Eric. What you did was selfish. Voight does what he does to help people. To protect people. You had me lie so you could get a promotion, and even after what happened you still didn't own up."

Eric suppressed an eye roll. "I told you that the car accident wasn't my fault, Lani."

It was like the acid curdled in Lana's stomach. Even if he hadn't been high, a girl had still died, how could he be so dismissive like that?

"I wasn't talking about the accident. I lost active duty because of what I did for you."

Eric scoffed, "You lost active duty because of your arm."

"My arm's fine, Eric." Lana snapped back, "it was punishment for the accident. A demotion without the bad press."

"Well, we can change that, " The way he accepted it, moved on without even questioning like he had known the truth all along. "I can submit for another medical review. We can get you reinstated, be a full, active agent again."

She'd be lying if she said something inside of her didn't start listening at those words. Didn't want to hear more, to think about the possibility of what he was offering.

"Come on, Lani, I know I messed up, I _know_ that. I want to make it right." He looked around at the sparse furnishings, the not fully unpacked boxes. "You obviously haven't fully settled in here. Come home. Come back to the job that you love, where you belong."

Lana stared. He was here, pretending he could make it better. That everything between them could just get swept beneath a pretty little rug.

And there wasn't a tiny, single, drop of herself that wanted that.

He could see the stubbornness building, that his pushing was making her shut down, and he relented before he lost this argument once and for all.

"Just, promise to think about it, okay?"

Lana nodded once, arms folding she looked away. She'd agree to think about it if it got him to leave. And it did. A warm smile, a small squeeze to her arm, and Eric left.

Lana leaned against the counter and sighed. It was a relief, to breath without him watching her. He could be relentless, a trait that often worked out well for him, but being on the other side of it was exhausting.

He was leaving tomorrow, going back to run his own little unit, and she realized with refreshing clarity that she would not be going with him. She hoped he would do well. Maybe he would even be good at it. But she didn't want to be a part of it.

She wanted to be a part of here. Even if she had screwed it up, it was worth sticking around and trying to fix it.

It was worth trying to make it right. Lana pulled her phone, scrolling until Voight's number filled the screen. She might as well start now.


	17. Drained

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know my posting schedule has been all over the place, so I wanted to let you know I will be posting every Friday from here on out! Rest assured, if I don't, I will hear about it from my sister.   
> Thanks for the patience!

Voight tipped the delivery driver and let the door close behind him. Crossed to the kitchen and dropped the bag into the garbage bin. He wasn't hungry.

A minute later he pulled it back out and shoved it into the fridge. No point wasting the blasted thing just because he wasn't in the mood to eat it.

He popped the top of a beer and just stood there staring at it.

He was trying to shut it off, the part of him that knew it wouldn't take much. A few pulled strings and Eric wouldn't be a problem he had to worry about anymore.

He had connections, on either side of the law. One phone call would wreck Eric. His career. His life.

They were connections he had used before, when his people were threatened by something the law couldn't fix. Erin. Justin. He hadn't been above scraping the bottom of the moral barrel just to get them out of whatever they were in.

But this was different. Because Eric wasn't a threat to any of that. He wasn't here to hurt anything Voight had sworn to protect. He was just here to get Milani back.

If he pulled strings now it would be purely selfish, and that was a low even he couldn't respect.

His phone rang and he pulled it out, tossing it aside without looking at it. The captain had heard about the shooting by now and he wasn't in the mood to get an earful.

He downed his beer, as Milani's name flashed twice more on the screen before going blank.

* * *

Voight settled onto the couch, dozed off to an old western. It was after eleven when he stirred, convinced himself to get up and go to bed. He grabbed his phone to plug it in and paused, the missed call notification still on the screen.

Lana had called? He hesitated, his eye going to the clock. It was late. She had only called once so it wasn't urgent, he should just wait until tomorrow.

But his finger was already dialing her back, and he listened to the tone as the line rung.

It took a minute before she answered, her voice coming quiet and slightly rough through the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hey, did I wake you?"

Lana looked down at the scattering of chips she had dropped onto her lap as she had fallen asleep on the couch.

"Uh, no, yeah, maybe a little." The tv still played on full volume, Friends reruns with canned laughter and Lana fumbled for the remote.

"Sorry. I saw your missed call. You alright?"

Lana held the phone a little closer in the sudden silence of her livingroom as she clicked the tv off. "Yeah, I didn't mean to disturb your evening, I just," Lana blinked at the clock on the wall, and grew distracted, was it really that late?

"You just what, Milani?"

It might have been the hour, or the faint static of the line, but his voice sounded warmer. Gentler. A far cry from the angry way he had shouted at her hours before and Lana tucked her knees into her chest.

"I wanted to thank you, for having my back today."

Silence. She wiggled one foot beneath the other as she waited.

"I'm glad you're alright, Milani," he said after a moment, and his voice sounded heavier now, "but I shouldn't have needed to have your back like that."

"I know I messed up, Voight. And I'm sorry." She rubbed her eyes, wishing there was something else she could say.

"I just don't understand why." Voight leaned forward, his elbow dropping onto his knee as he held the phone to his ear. "You dismissed what was right in front of you. You're a better cop than that. You could have handled the situation today if you had trusted your instincts."

Lana gave a humorless laugh, letting her head fall against the back of the couch. "My instincts haven't exactly been very reliable lately."

Voight heard the dejection in her voice, the embarrassment. "Maybe you've just forgotten how to listen to them."

Lana toyed with a loose bit of string on her couch cover. "My instincts had me trying to vindicate a cop killer."

Voight hummed alittle, "Was that instincts, or you looking to get rid of guilt?"

Lana puffed out a breath, "Does it matter? Either way it was a screw up."

"You're not gonna get it right everytime, Milani. No one is. Trick is to come back from it."

"I _want_ to come back from it. I want to be a good cop," she admittedly quietly, resting her head on her knees, and Voight felt a smile pull.

"You _are_ a good cop. Wouldn't have kept you around if you weren't."

He couldn't hear it, if she smiled, if her eyes lightened at all, instead it was quiet. Then, "I disappointed you today."

Voight's head dropped into his hand. There was a safety in the late hour, in the sole connection of a voice through a line that cracked the door on things they wouldn't have said.

"No, Lana. You scared me." It spread through her, resonating, even as he continued. "I get scared whenever any of my people are in danger."

"You took me out of the field." Like she was reminding him, that he hadn't just gotten angry, that he had taken something from her, and Voight rubbed his knuckles across his eyes.

"That wasn't my call, Lana."

Truth was he never should have put her there to begin with. He had put her in the field without a weapon. Used her where she wasn't cleared and ended up putting her job on the line. Now it was like she was getting punished for Voight's mistake.

"Eric came over." She spoke suddenly, and Voight felt the air not reach his lungs. He cleared his throat.

"And?"

Lana was rocking her forehead back and forth on her knees, her voice muffled on the phone. "He said if I go home they can reinstate me. I'll be an active agent again."

She offered it, hoping he would take the idea. See if they could do that here, get another medical review, get her back in the field officially.

But Voight didn't realize, didn't hear the possibility in her words. All he heard was the last nail hammering down.

If she went home she would have everything she wanted.

He wanted to argue, tell her she should would be breaching contract, that if Miami had wanted her they never would have transfered her. Miami didn't need her. She was a good fit for _his_ team. He wanted to tell her, that she made them a better unit with the work she put in, but he couldn't do that.

Because he wasn't sure they had done the same for her. Being here, working for him, was turning her into something she never wanted to be. She was doubting herself. Her ability to do a job she should have the opportunity to thrive at.

His fingers gripped the phone, tight, unwilling. He didn't want to say it.

Voight closed his eyes.

"Then go home."

* * *

Lana sat her desk, staring at a computer screen that had gone to sleep without her noticing. Shift started in half an hour. She hadn't needed to come in early. Hadn't really even wanted to, but there was something about being here, when the lights were half off and the room was empty, that let her think.

_Then go home._

Her throat felt tight at the memory, at the halting way she had said goodbye. Ended the conversation before she said something stupid. She didn't _want_ to go back to Miami, to work for Eric. She wanted a place here, even if she was stuck behind this desk.

Voight came in, passed by her desk and acknowledged her presence with a nod. As cold as a good morning as she could get.

"Sir."

He stopped, turned a little and waited for her to continue.

"I'd like to have a word, please."

He nodded, "What's up, Milani."

She swallowed. "Eric needs my answer, tonight..."

He hid so much behind that shuttered gaze. "and you're taking it?" Blunt and to the point.

Lana didn't know why it hit her so wrong. Why it felt like she was waiting for something. _Hoping_ for something.

Lana's lips moved a couple times, "well, I-"

He stared at her, every moment his gaze hardened further, became that much more difficult to face.

Voight breathed. This wasn't the time to over-react. It wasn't the time to let himself react at all. "Let me know. I'll put the transfer through."

Lana watched him turn to his office, every step he took away from her stretching that stupid hope. Too thin until it snapped. And she was left wondering why she had ever been naive enough to think he would ask her to stay. This wasn't some Telenovela her mother made here sit through when she was 12. She never cared for the dramatic scenes, the over the top actions.

She had decided to stay, to earn her way back to a good standing with this team. With Voight. Nothing would change that. He had as good as told her, he couldn't give her the connection she wanted. But a tiny little piece of her heart had been searching for it anyway, a word, a sign, anything to let her know that she wasn't an idiot for wanting to stay here... for him.

* * *

Antonio ended a call and pushed up from his desk, not even an hour into shift and the day was about to get hectic.

"We got a hostage situation down town. We'll need a translator. Dispatch says they're speaking German."

"Find someone," Voight pointed at Lana, moving toward the stairs, all business. Her hand went to the phone, when she stopped.

"Eric. He's a licensed translator."

"He speaks German?" Jay asked, clearly doubtful.

"Yeah," he had used it on one of their first cases together.

"You good with this?" Antonio asked Voight, Eric wasn't one of their own but if he was close this could work.

Voight shrugged, like it wasn't in him to care anymore. "Don't really have time to not be. Let's roll out."

* * *

Traffic was stopped around an intersection, a woman had pulled a gun on a couple, forced them from their car at a red light. Voight didn't understand a word of what they were shouting but it was easy enough to get the basic gist of the situation. The age old motive, cheating spouse was caught in the act. It was amazing how many cases they got just because someone was unfaithful.

Eric did his job, talked her down. A tense hour past but in the end it was resolved without bloodshed. Voight had stood by, barely necessary, given way too much time to think. He didn't want to think about it. He had other things to focus on than what he shouldn't want and couldn't have. He lived his life alone, and everyone else was better off because of it.

Miami. This guy, Eric, Maybe they could make Lana happy.

That at least would make this feeling worth it.

* * *

Erin came sauntering up as they finished up. "Hey, I need an hour. Personal errand."

Voight eyed her, "anything I should know about?"

She waved a hand, "No, but I would like to borrow your car."

She stood there, grinning like an impish cat, knowing he wouldn't say no, and Voight rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, alright." he handed her his keys. "You got an hour."

"Thanks," she tossed a grin over her shoulder, "Jay can take you back."

"Nonsense," Eric interjected himself, "I certainly don't mind giving you a lift."

Voight could have turned him down, found another way back to the precinct, but Voight wanted a chance to see, what it was Lana was going back to. See if he could trust him to have her back. Eric seemed a little too polished, a little too clean. But maybe Voight was just too used to staring at dirt.

His phone buzzed and he glanced at the text, a CI he had reached out to was finally getting back, and Voight asked Eric to detour to the meet. Eric chatted, about his new position, the cases he would be heading up. The sort of bragging meant to sound natural and Voight tried to tune it out.

But everytime he mentioned Lana, the fun they had had and the asset she would be it scraped something raw inside of him. They came to a stop in a side road where his guy would be, cross traffic moved as Eric talked and Voight's temper snapped.

"She know? That you ratted her out to the commander?"

Eric's sentence stuttered off. "Excuse me?"

Voight shrugged, words calm but his chest felt hot. "You took something from her when you did that. She know that the kind of man you want her to work for?"

"So she should stay here, working for you?"

Eric's implication was clear, and Voight ignored it. If Lana was gonna work for this guy, he needed to know what was important. "I don't sabotage my team to get them to do what I want. If you're going to run a unit you need to protect your people."

Eric sneered, "Like a crook with a deal with IA has any room to talk. You're nothing but a CI yourself, just with a bigger office. No self respecting cop would work for you if there was a way out. And I'm giving her one. She'll be thanking me."

It was a slow breath that kept Voight's cool, a harsh curse muttered as his hands slowly unclenched. Eric was visibly waiting for a response he full well knew he wouldn't get. Voight couldn't argue with the truth, they both knew it.

A kid in a grey hoodie stepped into view, and Voight reached for the door handle.

"I'll find my own way back."

Eric watched Voight get out, and blew out a breath. He felt jumpy, annoyed he had let Voight irritate him that much. Snapping wasn't something he usually stooped to. He checked the rearview, glanced around, before opening his door and stepping out. He needed a little break, to calm down and focus. Voight would be busy with his CI, and Eric headed off the other way.

* * *

Voight caught up with the kid as he rounded the corner into a small alley.

"Sup, Coppers."

Voight shook his head at the boy, not in the mood for small talk. "You remember that kid snatching case?

"Course," his shoe scuffed the ground, "lil sis was in that girl's class. She was scared to go to school for a week."

Voight shrugged, "We're looking for intel."

The kid tugged his hood tighter, "I thought you bagged and tagged the guy."

Voight swallowed a flash of irritation. He was here to get information, not give it out to every punk kid on the corner. "Just looking into it. You know that park downtown? I'm interested in anyone hanging out."

He pulled up the photo of the body he had dropped, and showed the kid, "Or anyone who's been around this guy."

"Ooof," Ralph rubbed his neck at the lifeless face, half glancing up as a couple of girls walked by, "You take him out too?"

Voight pocketed his phone. "You do what you have to," he muttered. "Now, can you get it done?"

Ralph held up his hands at the sharp tone, "Yeah, whatever you need man. Long as it pays."

Voight glared. "Results get paid."

Ralph laughed, "Yeah, whatever man."

He tugged his jacket closed and walked away. Voight could be a real jerk sometimes but he didn't buy into the older cop's bite. He looked out for the kids around here when some of the other cops couldn't be bothered. It was one of the only reasons Ralph had ever started snitching for him. Because Voight got things done.

He stepped around the corner and stopped. That other guy Voight had shown up with, the blond cop, was at the end of the back alley. He was slipping cash to the dealer who ran this corner and Ralph felt a little smug that the jerk dealer was about to get pinched. How Marcus didn't realize the guy he was dealing with was cop, Ralph couldn't figure, but he tugged out his phone and flipped his camera on.

The whole drug deal played out on his screen next to the little light that blinked 'record,' and Ralph swallowed a chuckle. He waited for the take down, but the exchange ended and Marcus just walked away. He passed by Ralph with a half nod, and just kept going.

The cop didn't follow, radio anyone, draw his weapon and tell Marcus to freeze. None of the good stuff. Instead, Ralph watched him fish pills from a baggy and pop a few back. He frowned. Snap, this wasn't a sting. It was a legitimate buy.

Voight didn't mess with no dopers and Ralph back stepped, ready to find Voight and let him in on what he had just seen when Blondie turned.

Ralph's phone still sat, openly recording in his hand, that frozen, startled look in his eye, and Eric drew his weapon.

"Drop the phone, hands against the wall."

Ralph felt his stomach flip, his throat dry to something parched and desperate. It wasn't his first time facing no gun but there was a cop at the other end of it. A cop he had just filmed taking drugs.

Voight was still nearby, probably. He could try, right, to run?

Round the corner, Marcus paused. He hadn't paid that punk kid by the dumpster any mind, but on second thought, why was he hanging around like that? This was his lot, and he was gonna make sure everyone knew it.

He stepped back into the alley to run that boy off when he saw Eric.

"Aw hell, you a cop?!"

He pulled his own gun, letting out a stream of profanity. He didn't like getting played.

Ralph stumbled back, caught between the cop and his dealer. Gunshots blasted through the alley, and two bodies dropped on the pavement, half covered in the shadow of the building above.

Marcus stood in the echo, in that stunned moment before reaction. The kid that lay bleeding, not two feet in front of him. Marcus hesitated, realizing he had seen this dude around, mouthy but he kept to himself. His eyes were open. They weren't blinking.

There came a groan down the other end, the cop, he was moving. Marcus looked down at the gun in his hand.

He had shot a cop. His moms was gonna straight up murder him. Enough scenes from cop shows flashed in his mind, and Marcus tugged his shirt over the handle of the gun, rubbing hard enough to hopefully erase prints. He didn't really know how that crap worked, but he dropped his gun by the lifeless hand of the kid at his feet, and Marcus ran.

* * *

It felt like the sun was pulsing on him, heat on melting heat. Shards of pavement scraped into his skin as he crawled. The kid was dead. That was easy enough to see. He recognized the hoodie, this was Voight's CI. Eric would've sworn but his breath was choked with pain.

The phone. He needed to find the phone. He'd seen the dealer drop his gun. That was here, the smoking weapon. But where the hell- he found it, crushed beneath the kid's leg. Screen was cracked on a rock, but he wasn't taking chances. He tossed it, heard it slide beneath the graffiti littered dumpster, hit the back wall with a thud.

Blast it was hot. He heard Voight yelling. Muffled, kind of sounded like his name. He fell back, blood leeching onto the pavement, face to the blaring sun.

* * *

Lana looked up as the others came in.

"Hey, how'd it go? Where's Voight? And Eric?"

Ruzek shrugged. "Should be right behind us." He dropped in his seat, "Man. It always amazes me how stupid people will be when they think they're in love. Hold up an entire intersection just cuz your man ran out on you. Hey, you ever been in love, Milani?"

Antonio smacked him with a folder, "That's personal. But have you?" he turned to Lana expectantly and she blinked at them.

In love?

Yeah. With Eric. A stupid girlish crush from day one. Fell in to the stereotypical trap of falling for your partner. She couldn't quite believe it when he came to love her back. It was like some impossible perfect little dream.

She had loved him. She had trusted him. Look where that had gotten her.

"Yeah," she shook her head a little in mock confusion, "And I was a flippin idiot."

Olinsky lifted his coffee mug in a toast as he sat down. "We're all idiots in love. But we chase it anyway."

"I dunno," Attwater plucked the stress ball from his desk, and tossed it around, "My momma always said that if you have to chase it, it's not love. It's infatuation. A crush. Real love happens and there's not much you can do about it. Because when it's right, you end up running into eachother, not away."

Antonio lips quirked in a disbelieving smirk. "You're telling me you never ran away from a woman."

"Oh no, I ran," Attwater tossed the ball onto his desk, "but I didn't spend the whole time running. If you're not both working towards eachother then what's the point. Like today, that woman done lost her mind because the man she was chasing was chasing someone else. Real love is when you're drawn to _eachother_. No matter how much you fight it. Chasing, and being chased. That's love. Because if it starts with just one person doing the chasing, it's gonna end that way too." His shoulders bounced in a shrug, "least that's what my momma always told me."

They fell silent, pointedly busy. Like they weren't all sitting there wondering if they had ever had that moment, that kind of love that lasted without one of them drifting away and the other one holding on to what wasn't there anymore.

If they would ever find it again. That give and take. To want and be wanted.

She saw Jay smile a little to himself, pull out his phone to presumably text Erin. They were a good match, a good couple. Stupid as it sounded, Lana wanted that.

Lana's gaze drifted to the closed office door at the end of the room, one phrase echoing on repeat in her mind. _I can't give you what you want._

"Milani!"

Her gaze snapped over to see Platt, top of the stairs and panting. "Why don't you answer your stupid phone!"

Lana looked down, realizing she had left the receiver slightly off the base and she clicked it back in place.

"Sorry, I-"

Platt waved a hand, "Yeah, shutup. Your partner's vehicle was just involved in a shooting, came in over the car's radio. One person been shot. The call said someone was critically injured but we don't know if it was Eric or his passenger.

"Passenger?" Lana muttered, a stunned mind catching on one word. Antonio was already grabbing his jacket, offering to take her to the hospital.

Jay shot to his feet. "Voight. Voight was with him."

The color drained from Lana's face.

* * *

The patrolman stood at the edge of the alley, waiting while they photographed the body. Ambulance had came and went, rushing Detective Watts to the hospital. Sergeant Voight had gone with him. The patrolman couldn't figure it. Watts was an officer, maybe not from their own home but he was a brother in uniform, and he'd been shot. Could be bleeding out as he stood there, watching the perimeter. Sergeant Voight took that stuff personally. Anyone of them did. But when Voight had seen the kid, the one who must have shot their fellow officer, he looked... disappointed. Like he cared the kid was dead more than he did about the detective who was shot.

He turned at an approaching officer and stuttered to attention.

"Commander!"

She didn't normally come out for something like this, but she stood there, frowning as she took in the scene.

Commander Emma Crowley sighed. After the shooting in the park, having a visiting detective shot while in Voight's company wasn't something they could let get out of hand. The media was hard enough to keep at bay as it was, and she didn't need it getting in the way of her officers doing their jobs. She would be involved in this one, until she was certain nothing was going to come back and bite them later.

An officer was interviewing a couple of girls, off to the side of the yellow police tape and she crossed to them. Officer Robbins nodded in greeting as she approached, stepped aside when she clearly intended to step in.

"You saw the shooting?" she asked the girls. They were teens. Oversized jackets and tiny shorts. Like they didn't have the sense to dress right. One snapped her gum at her, tossing a red braid over her shoulder.

"Nah. Just heard the shots."

The Commander cocked a brow at her attitude but she didn't seem phased. The gum snapped again.

"So what _did_ you see?" she asked, shooting Officer Robbins a look that made it clear he better not be wasting her time with these two.

"That kid. We saw him earlier. With this cop that comes around sometimes. A Sergeant or some crap like that. They were talking."

"About?" the Commander demanded, and the girl popped a hip, dropped a hand on it like she wasn't sure she wanted to say what she was gonna say but she was gonna say it anyway, because who really cared.

"Look, I don't know how it started. But they were talking about dropping bodies. That kid, he asked the cop if he should 'take him out too?'"

Commander Crowleys's frown was fierce. Exacting. "Those were his words?"

"Yeah," the girl rolled her eyes like she didn't like being questioned. "And that cop guy told him to do what needed to be done. Then the kid asked for money and cop said he'd get paid when he saw results."

It was ironic, how she just tossed out information like that like she didn't bother realizing the implication. Or maybe she just didn't care, because she waved a hand like it was drama even she thought was wrong.

"So he like, paid that kid to go after the guy didn't he. And he's a cop. That's messed up."

Crowley stood a little straighter. Yes, from what the girl claimed to have witnessed, none of this looked good. But she hadn't gotten to where she was by making assumptions. Eye witnesses could mishear. Misunderstand. They had no motive. No evidence.

She turned to the other girl, quiet, with a glossy black braid, she was staring at the corner that the body lay behind.

"I knew him," she glanced up, and shrugged a little into herself. "Not well, ya know? But I'd seen him around. He had a mouth but he always seemed... nice? I guess? He'd walk his sister home."

She shuddered, "Guess he wasn't that nice, shooting that cop like that. Gosh who's gonna tell that little girl?"

The Commander let her expression soften. Everyone reacted to witnessing a crime differently and this girl wasn't as crass as her companion.

"Did you hear or see anything different, anything that could help?"

The girl shrugged, "No, I heard what Stella heard, the stuff the guy said. It kinda scared me a little. I didn't know he was a cop."

"So you hadn't seen him around?"

"No," she crossed her arms, "But I did see him earlier. Just before I guess, when I was waiting at the bus stop for Stella. He was in a car with a blond guy. They kinda looked like they were arguing."

"Arguing? Did you hear about what?"

"No," the girl shook her head, "I just saw that guy get out. He looked mad."

"Look, we done here?" Stella spoke up, "I gots to get home before my nephew get outta school."

Officer Robbins had their names, their contact information, and the commander waved them off.

Voight had been a pain in her department since the moment she came on. Pushed lines, pushed suspects around, like everyone knew he was dirty and they couldn't quite peg him.

He got results. Had support from higherups that she didn't quite understand. But this was beyond anything even they could smooth over.

She had tried to peg him with a body before, after his son had been killed and the killer had just vanished. But nothing ever seemed to stick to Hank Voight.

Now? Now she had a detective in the hospital, it didn't matter that it wasn't one of hers. One of hers might be responsible, and she wasn't going to waste time letting this get out of hand.

Hank Voight had twisted strings and ignored authority long enough. She had witnesses, a dead kid, and an injured cop. She would get answers. And Voight? He would answer to them.


	18. 18. Pull

Lana was completely silent as he drove, and Antonio didn't know what to say. That, maybe it wasn't Eric? Maybe Eric wasn't the one shot.

But they couldn't exactly hope for the alternative. He couldn't sit here and wish his boss had been the one to take a bullet.

He opted to keep his mouth shut and he kept driving so that Lana could find out whether it was her boss, or the man that she cared about, that was gonna be lying in that hospital bed.

* * *

The doors slid open, the harsh lighting reflecting off of white tile. It smelled like antiseptic and forced clean air.

Antonio hated hospitals.

They stopped at the nurses station, asking about the officers that were just brought in when a voice cut down the hall.

"Tonio!"

Antonio looked over. Voight stood outside a hospital room, and Antonio was a little surprised at how big the wave of relief was that hit him.

"Boss, hey, you're okay." he was grinning like a doof and Voight raised a brow at him.

"Yeah," his gaze shifted, to the woman at Antonio's side, and Antonio snapped out of it. Voight was fine. But that meant Eric _wasn't_.

Lana began to shake.

She took one step, two, then she stumbled into Voight. Her forehead met his chest as her arms closed around him.

Antonio felt a little bad. If she was looking for comfort that probably wasn't the best place to get it. Voight just looked stunned.

Antonio had seen enough times like this, when people were scared and they reached for what was in front of them. Reactions like this were perfectly normal. She might feel a little embarrassed about it later but no one would blame her. Antonio certainly wouldn't.

...None of that explained Voight.

The way his hand slipped around her waist. At first like he was scared to move it but then like he couldn't help it. The way his head dropped onto her shoulder, like she was the breath he had been waiting to take.

Antonio knew why Lana was freaking out. Heck, anyone would be in her situation.

But _nothing_ could explain the way Voight held her.

* * *

"Hey," Voight's voice was low, but firm, his hands on her elbows drawing her back. From his warmth and the sound of his heart, fast but strong. _He was okay_. It was the one, repetitive thought that had overtaken all else and Lana didn't want to care about anything anyone else had to say.

"He's gonna be fine. It looked worse than it was. Bullet was through and through."

It took her a moment to realize he was talking about Eric, and she felt guilty, for the flash of disinterest. That wasn't fair. His hands were still on her arms, steadying her, and she let her fingers grip his shirt.

She had been so scared. It was like she could taste her heartbeat with each pang. She felt the air from the vent above, brushing cold on her cheek. The concern in his gaze sharpened.

"Really, Lana. He's okay."

It wasn't until she tasted the tear on her lip that she realized she was crying.

"That, that's good." She stepped back a fraction, pulled her sweater back over her shoulder. She needed to compose herself, before she buried herself against him again and refused to let go. "What happened?"

She watched him frown, the kind that started in his eyes and touched his lips last.

"We stopped, so I could meet my CI. I walked away when I heard shots. Found Eric and my CI in an alley. The kid didn't make it."

"I'm sorry," she murmured. That had to have hit him harder than he let on.

He looked unsettled, like that wasn't quite all of it, and Lana crept a half step closer.

"What is it?"

"I don't know," Voight shook his head like it wasn't worth mentioning, and Lana's hand gripped his forearm.

"Hank." she pressed, and the way his gaze met hers, a soft moment when he heard his name from her. He blinked it away.

"I just couldn't make sense of the scene," he shrugged, "Once Eric is awake we'll know more."

Like why he had found a gun by Ralph's body. Why Eric had drug himself over to the boy. To try and help him, before collapsing from his wound? It wouldn't have mattered. Ralph had taken the shot to the chest. It had been quick. Gone before he met the ground and it helped, in some screwed up way, that it hadn't hurt. The kid shouldn't have died but atleast he hadn't suffered.

"Voight! Oh thank God." Lana was shoved away, their touch broken by Erin, who threw her arms around Voight's shoulders. Jay had called her and filled her in, and she had dropped everything.

"Don't scare me like that," she smacked his shoulder, stepped back, eyes clear by sheer will, and he gave her a smile.

"I'm fine, kid." he half nodded to Lana, a subtle clue for Erin to pay attention, and her eyes widened,

"Oh, hey, how's Eric?" she stepped over to her friend, her hand on her back and Lana repeated Hank's news. Eric would be fine.

She smiled because Erin was expecting it, accepted Antonio's hug, squeezed him a little when he said he was glad that Eric was okay.

Ruzek and Attwater were there. They were pleased to hear Eric was doing alright and she was touched because she knew it was for her sake. Touched and annoyed. How quickly they had assumed that she and Eric had something between them.

Her eyes found Voight, quiet, watching her. How quickly they had _all_ assumed.

"You guys don't have to hang around. He's going to be fine. Besides, I'm pretty sure you got work to do."

She shooed them out after she assured them she was fine waiting on her own. It wouldn't have felt right, leaving. She was the only person Eric knew in town. Antonio offered to stay but after a quick hug she pushed him to the door.

Lana stayed, reading one boring magazine after the other, watching the storm clouds form against a fleetingly blue sky. Waiting until the doctor told her he was awake.

* * *

"You can see him now."

Lana looked up at the nurse who stood over her, blinking away from her view out the window.

Lana flashed a polite smile, thanked her. She was suddenly nervous. Being in hospitals didn't bother her, the lobbies, nurses stations, side hallways with the vending machines. But stepping into the hospital rooms, seeing people she knew on those beds. That she never liked.

He looked pale, head back on that white, white pillow, but he grinned some when he saw her.

"Eric, hey, how you feeling?"

"Like I've been shot," he quipped, and Lana chuckled half-heartedly, adjusting her bag over her shoulder.

"I'm glad you're okay, I-"

"Excuse me," the voice in the doorway had her turning, staring at Commander Crowley with a fair amount of surprise. "I have some questions for the detective, now that he's awake."

Lana stepped back. Of course someone would be in to take Eric's statement, but the Commander herself showing up wasn't exactly expected, and Lana excused herself.

"Lani, wait," Eric's voice caught her at the door, he held out a hand, beckoning her back. Like he wanted her by his side.

It was curiosity more than anything that had her turning, a glance at the commander checking that it was okay before she came back in, to hear what it was the woman was going to ask.

They were pretty standard questions. She wanted to know what had happened, how he had been shot and a boy had ended up dead in an alley. Lana watched Eric, expecting an answer.

But his brow dipped, hard, like it hurt to even think about it. Like the questions themselves confused him.

"I'm sorry, Commander, I would love to help, but the truth is everything about that alley is a blur. I know we stopped so Voight could speak to a CI. The next thing I really remember is waking up here."

The commander swallowed a flash of irritation. Being shot was a traumatic experience, immediately waking up from it could be disorienting. But she wanted details, something to settle what she had heard about Voight's involvement. She pressed, but Eric had nothing else to give.

Lana watched, the helpless shrug Eric gave, like he was trying his best and part of her wanted to tell the commander to just come back later. Hospital gowns brought out the sympathy in her. But she noticed it, the tiny flick to Eric's gaze, the laced fingers, thumbs tapping against eachother. A nervous habit. One she had noticed early on in their relationship but it took a while to realize what it meant. To catch on.

She knew full well now. Eric was lying.

The commander excused herself, telling Eric to rest up and call when he remembers more. It hadn't gone how she needed it to but there was still time to figure this out.

* * *

The others had clocked out, headed home. Voight still sat in his office, eyes on a report he wasn't reading.

His thoughts should be stuck on that kid in the alley, that cop in the hospital bed. On their case and the man they still hadn't found.

But they weren't.

It was dark hair against his chest, the way her body shook with the tears that slipped with each shiver from her eyes. They weren't for him. He wasn't foolish enough to think that. But she had clung to him. It still _clung_ to him

There was a knock at his door and Antonio stuck his head in. "You got a minute?"

"Yeah," Voight stood, stretching his neck a little, he settled on the edge of his desk. "What's up."

"How you doing?"

Voight shrugged, "Fine."

They looked at eachother an awkward second, before Antonio finally blurted out what he needed to know.

"What's up with you and Lana?"

Voight folded his arms, shoulders hopping a little in a shrug. "What do you mean?"

Antonio stuck his hands on his hips. He couldn't believe he was having this talk with his boss. "That hug, at the hospital."

"She was scared for her partner," Voight countered almost too immediately, and Antonio shook out a hand.

"I know. I'm not talking about her. I'm talking about you. You held her like," Antonio shook his head, not even knowing how to describe it, "Like-"

He gave up when he watched Voight's face settle. Resignation. Admittance.

"Look," Antonio's laugh sounded and he swallowed it back, "it's a good look on you, I just," he rubbed the back of his head, face scrunching up, "I'm not sure that she's into you?"

Voight laughs. Once. Hard. "I know, kid. But I-" and he shrugs, hands in his pockets like there was just nothing he could do about it. And Antonio stares. He never thought he would see the day.

Hank Voight was in love.

"This stays here," Voight demanded, gesturing between them, and Antonio held his hands up in mock surrender.

"Yes sir."

He backed to the door, shaking his head. He had no intention of saying a word.

No one would believe him anyway.

* * *

Lana couldn't shake it, as Eric grew groggy, nodded off from the painkillers, head sinking further against his pillow. What had he been lying about?

She could be wrong. Maybe he was just frustrated he couldn't remember. Nervous. The man had just been shot for heavens sake, she should feel sorry for him.

But it wouldn't leave. Something was off, he was covering for something and she didn't like the first suspicion that came to mind.

The hall was quiet, faint beeps and whirs of equipment in other rooms. It was stagnant. No hurried footsteps, no voice crackling over the intercom. It was the closest thing a hospital ever came to sounding like peace.

A doctor approached, smile warm, asking if she was here for Eric Watts and she nodded.

She listened to the doctor's report. Eric was doing much better than they first feared and would be discharged within a day or so. She didn't smile, and the doctor frowned.

"Is everything alright?"

Lana cast a glance behind her at the closed hospital room door. "Could you... run a tox screen?"

The doctor's lips thinned a fraction as his expression turned stern. "Do you have reason to believe that's necessary?"

Lana swallowed, going off a bad hunch could ruin Eric's career. But, not saying anything, _again_. She couldn't do it.

"If nothing comes back, could you leave it out of the report?"

The doctor seemed to consider. He had been in this line of work a long time, knew that sometimes following protocol wasn't always the best course of action. People weren't built out of rules and regulations.

"How about we get the results, and we go from there?"

Lana smiled, thanking him quietly. He didn't look surprised, or judgmental, there was frank understanding in his eyes.

"I'll call you when the report comes in. Might be a couple days."

She left a number, and with one last look at Eric's door, Lana left.

* * *

Voight tugged the chair out from his desk, hands gripping the back a moment as he paused. It was a new shift. New day. New chance to get answers on a case they couldn't afford to be detoured from. The wrong man was imprisoned and a child kidnapper was still walking free. The biggest lead they had was that body in the park. Now he had lost his CI and he didn't even know why. Ralph got around, he got answers, but he stayed out of the shady crap that went down. Voight hadn't pegged him as a kid who would walk around armed.

Nothing in Detective Watt's shooting made sense. It was tempting, to dig in and to find out why, but they couldn't lose focus.

He couldn't lose focus.

He dropped into his seat and put a call into Platt. If they were going to get this case reopened, they needed more information.

* * *

Lana pushed open the door to the precinct, stepping on to her next shift.

Platt looked up for her work, usually stern face even sterner, and waved her over without a word.

Lana detoured, hoping Platt wasn't going to drop some other class she needed to teach into her lap. She wasn't in the mood for it. But Platt just regarded her a moment before sighing.

"How's the partner?"

"Oh," her concern made Lana feel guilty for assuming Platt just wanted something, "he's doing okay. Resting."

She had called on her way in for an update, it hadn't felt right not to, and Platt nodded.

"Hmm. That's good to hear. Hey, since you're standing here anyway," she reached under the desk and dropped a file box on the top. "Mind taking this up to intelligence for me? Voight requested them, and those stairs don't do anything for my womanly figure."

Lana was already taking the box, "Anything else?" she inquired dryly, and Platt waved her off.

"Ill be sure to let you know."

* * *

Voight was at his desk, one elbow resting on the arm rest as he frowned down at the paper in his hand. His door was open and she paused in the entry way, taking in his expression, the profile of his brow, that faint scratch that had almost healed. This life, this job, had shaped him, and you could see it, in the lines of his eyes, and the edge of his frown. It was always a part of him, framing the way he spoke. Even the way he smiled. But it made it seem even brighter, that the light in his eyes needed something to shine against, like the sunrise along the blackened piers on the shore.

He wasn't a simple person, built of just one thing, and when he glanced up at her there was pieces of it all. The weariness. The hope, and determination to do another day right. A small flash of surprise that she was standing there.

"Lana, hey," he straightened up as she came in, and Lana held the box up a little.

"Courtesy of Platt." She dropped it on the chair he gestured at, and looked around at the several stacks of folders dotting his office. "What is all this?"

Voight stretched his back, making Lana wonder how long he had already been at it this morning.

"Missing child cases in the greater Chicago area. Looking for any connections to our case. We know there were two players here already."

"And you think it might run bigger?"

Voight shrugged, "We haven't gotten approval to reopen the case yet. Our eye witness is certain, but she already IDed someone else. If she's positive now, then what was she then?"

Lana lifted a file off of a stack on his desk. Everyone a separate case, a separate child. She almost wished they were all the act of one man. Then they could find him, end it all.

"We'll find something. We'll get our guy." She didn't know whether she said it for his sake or hers, but she set the folder down abruptly. "How can I help?"

His gaze slipped over her face, like he meant to say something, before he shook it off.

"Choose a stack," he nodded to the chair across from him, and picked up another folder from his pile.

Lana settled in, pages turning and occasional glances at the man across from her, looking for anything they could use.

* * *

The commander's phone rang as she stepped through the precinct doors, and she greeted the officer at the other end of the line.

"Thought you would want to know, we picked up another witness while we were out canvasing. Guy by the name of Marcus. Says he saw the shooting."

"and?" Commander Crowley came to a halt, letting the foot traffic step around her.

"He didn't see what started it. According to him our dead kid fired and hit the detective. Detective fired back. He ran before he saw much else."

The commander thanked him, curt and distracted. She wanted to bring Voight in, but pieced together witness statements were circumstantial at best, and without a motive to tie everything together, what she had was weak. Trying to hit Voight with this would be a waste of time. Eric's statement could have been enough, but that would have to wait until the man remembered more.

It didn't mean there weren't steps she couldn't take now, and Commander Crowley made another call, a slight smile to her otherwise stern face.

* * *

A half hour had passed in the quiet before the others started to arrive.

Ruzek stuck his head in, catching sight of Lana working in Hank's office and he popped a brow.

"Something wrong with your desk, Milani?"

"Yes. It's near yours." Lana replied without glancing up from her folder, and Ruzek laughed.

"I was gonna go talk to our witness, see if there's anything else she remembers that can help," he filled Voight in, and turned to Lana. "I could use another set of ears?" he offered, and Lana's head come up.

"Well. Actually I'm not," she started, but Voight sent Ruzek an annoyed look.

"She's busy. You done?"

"Yeah, right. Sorry, boss." Ruzek headed out with a little head shake that said he didn't really get Voight's sudden mood, but he had never quite figured his boss out anyway.

Lana shuffled her papers in her lap, she hadn't realized shift had started already and she didn't need to be here, taking up space in his office like this.

"I'm sorry," he spoke suddenly, and she froze, looking up in obvious question. "That you couldn't go with him," Voight continued, his thumb tapping on his desk like he didn't know what else to say.

Lana shrugged, "wasn't your call."

"hmph," his thumb tapped twice more before he stood. It was unsettling, the way she looked at him. He had told her it wasn't his call to take her out of the field, and she had believed it. Trusted it. It was the truth but even still there could have been doubt there, resentment. She didn't blame him, and he wondered if he knew how rare that was. People usually had something to accuse him of. Hell half the time he deserved it.

Lana didn't. Maybe she just hadn't seen enough, didn't know enough about him. But he would miss that, the unspoken ally of her gaze.

"I wouldn't have. You do good work, you deserve to be in the field."

Lana finished gathering her papers, stood with a bit of a shrug. "There's work to do here, too."

And she would do it, would focus on being the best cop she could be wherever they stuck her. Make up for her mistakes and poor judgement. However long it took.

"Yeah..." he scratched his jaw before dropping his hand, hating to ask. Needing to know. "Look, I know you said Eric needed your answer about the job yesterday. I take it, given the circumstances, that's on hold for a few days?"

"Oh," He was asking, _assuming_ she was still taking that stupid job, and Lana passed a hand over her brow. "I had forgotten about that," she muttered honestly. Eric getting shot, and lying about it somehow had derailed a lot things from her mind.

The reminder weighed on her, and Voight's voice gentled. "How's he doing?"

Was it wrong, that she wanted to stay in that moment, where he looked at her with such intentional focus. Care.

Did he assume, like everyone else had, that she had stopped at Eric's bedside this morning, been there to see how he was instead of calling the nurses station for an update on her way in?

Lana cleared her throat. "He's doing well. Should be discharged soon."

He went to respond when his phone rang, a glance told him it was important. Voight grudgingly answered the commander's call.

Lana waved as she stepped out, taking her set of folders with her.

* * *

Platt leaned her elbows on her desk, focus on the Commander's door. Voight had been in there for some time now.

An officer came up intending to speak to her, and she held up a finger with a sharp shush. She was busy.

The officer got the hint to just walk away just as Voight exited the office, and Platt hummed at the stormcloud in his expression. So it was as she thought. Commander Crowley had looked a little too pleased with herself when she had called Voight down and Platt hadn't trusted a second of it. She wanted to know what that woman was up to. and you better believe she had ways of finding out.

* * *

Voight let the office door slam behind him, and Attwater blinked at it in surprise. "What's up with him?"

But Erin had already slipped out of her desk. She didn't knock, turned the nob softly and stepped inside.

"Hey. What's going on?"

Voight puffed out a breath, raking his hand across the back of his neck. "Nothing that won't blow over."

Erin folded her arms, giving him the look that said she wasn't walking away without a better answer than that.

"Crowley wanted my statement," Voight relented.

Her hand met her hip. "And?" She knew it was more than that.

Voight would have laughed if he wasn't so annoyed. "And it wasn't an interview. More like an interrogation."

Erin's face scrunched up, "Interra- what like they think you're involved?"

It was ludicrous, and she watched the man who had raised her since she was a teen rest his hands on the edge of his desk like the fight was just gone from him. It was heavy, whatever it was that had been hanging on him lately. She had thought it was Justin, stress of work, but it was more than that. And it was getting tighter. Her hands fisted up.

"You know she wants you gone. But It's not like they can pin this on you, she's not crazy enough to try that. You just happened to be there. Heck if you weren't there, Eric would have bled out!"

Voight pushed off from the desk. "It doesn't matter."

Erin went to argue and a single finger stopped her. "It's not our case. Whatever theories she has aren't gonna pan out. We stay focused. And we get our work done."

"Yeah, fine. okay." Erin agreed, but she wasn't going to listen. She was looking into this. As with most things Voight didn't approve of, Erin had no intention of telling him that.

That never really stopped him from finding out, but hopefully this would buy her enough time to get to the bottom of whatever Crowley was trying to pull.


	19. You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had some internet trouble this weekend, but now that it's sorted I can finally post! Long as it behaves I'll post again on Friday!

Something wasn't right. There was tension in the air that everyone seemed to steadfastly ignore. Erin tore a page from her notepad, crumbled it with more force than necessary and tossed it aside with a mumbled curse.

Lana paused, the box of files she had just signed for downstairs still in her hands. She had been gone for 7 minutes, what exactly had she missed?

Ruzek glanced up as she moved forward, clocking her headed to Voight's door, and stumbled out a 'wait.'

"Oh, I, uh, you might wanna hold off taking that in there just yet."

"Why...?"

Antonio stood with an eyeroll, "You wanna be the one responsible for making Voight wait for something he asked for?"

Ruzek turned timid at that, and Lana stared Antonio down when he tried to take the box from her.

"What did I miss?"

"Nothing," Antonio shrugged, "Voight just had a run in with the commander. That always puts him in a bad mood."

"Run in about what?" Lana demanded, tugging back on the box, before relenting and just letting Antonio have it.

"Don't know. Not really planning to ask either," he gestured with his chin to her desk, "your phone's been ringing."

She walked to her station, saw the message light blinking and settled in to return some calls, gaze skittering to Voight's door.

* * *

"Pssst. Erin."

It came through the near empty office, Antonio, Ruzek and Attwater out on a call. Olinsky flipped a page on the file he was reading, not even glancing up to where Platt stood at the top of the stairs.

She waved the younger agent over and stood, foot tapping impatiently until Erin reached her.

"Well take your time, why don't you," she huffed, and Erin's brow rose.

"You need something, Platt?"

Some of that sass was coming out, the kind Trudy knew Voight must have had his hands full trying to tame, and Trudy pursed her lips. "Hmm, you didn't get this from me."

A glance into the office showed a pointedly disinterest Olinsky the only witness, and she slipped Erin the file.

She opened it on the spot, and Trudy shook her head. "Why not just wave it around why don't you."

"Trudy," Erin flipped the pages, tone incredulous, "this is the commander's case notes, how did you get this?"

Platt looked almost insulted. "Like I don't have my ways." She lowered her voice. "It's worse than we thought, kid, Commander isn't just on a witch hunt with this one. She's putting something together here."

Erin's brow furrowed. "Got it. I'll look into it."

Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and Erin turned on her heel, folder under her arm. The others were back and she returned to her desk like she had never left it.

There wasn't much to report from the guys, they had ID'ed their main suspect, Melvin Ringman, but so far couldn't seem to find him. That alone would have been enough to set Voight off, without the commander dropping more pressure on top of it. Erin stared at the file, tempted to dig in to the glimpses she had caught earlier when hands suddenly appeared on her desk.

Antonio was leaning over them. "I could use some coffee."

He lifted the file clear off Erin's desk as he straightened, and Erin shot to her feet. She quick stepped behind Antonio into the break room, and jabbed a finger at the man casually opening the folder that held the commander's stolen notes.

"That's personal!"

Antonio hummed, ignoring her. "Oh," his brow popped, "this isn't good."

"What isn't."

Erin groaned, how were more people getting involved in this? Lana stood in the breakroom doorway, eyes on what Antonio held with a scary sort of attention. She was locked in to this thing and she wasn't walking away.

She brushed by Erin, and peeked over Antonio's shoulder. It had been tight lipped avoidance all morning and she was done not knowing what was wrong with Voight. If they were going to dig, then so was she.

"Wait, what?" she snatched the papers from Antonio's hand, barely able to read them, holding him off as he tried to take them back.

"Looks like they're investigating Voight in Eric's shooting. In his involvement," Antonio filled her in on what she couldn't believe she was reading.

"Which is bull," Erin interjected hotly. "I know Eric's your friend, but this is the commander going after Voight unfairly."

"Which if he isn't involved, takes attention away from finding out what actually happened," Antonio added. The look Erin sent him held daggers.

"He _isn't_. and we're not supposed to have that." She made a snatch for the folder but Lana sidestepped her, still reading as she headed for the door way.

"Where are you going?"

Lana spared Antonio a glance at his question, eyes dropping back to the pages at hand. "Voight know about this?"

"Woah." Erin grabbed her sweater, tugging her back in. "He finds out we're working on this and not the case, it's all our heads."

"So we do what?" Lana demanded, and Antonio shrugged.

"Our jobs?" he offered, and Erin leveled a look at him.

"You can stay out of this either way, Antonio," she didn't exactly trust his motives where Voight was concerned. He made his mistrust of Voight's methods clear. She fixed Lana with that same searching gaze.

"What about you. Eric's a friend." and that file she was holding implicated Voight in him getting shot.

There was a cold look of certainty in Lana's eyes. So unwavering it made Erin question whether they were still talking about the same thing anymore.

"So is Voight." She snapped the file closed and straightened her spine. "I'll be borrowing this."

She left, leaving Erin to shrug her question into the air. What had gotten into Lana?

Antonio laughed, snatching up a cup to pour some coffee. "She isn't ratting you out. What more do you want."

Erin ground out a sigh. Her endeavour to sort out Voight's problem had just gotten hijacked and she did not like being side tracked. Lana could sort her way through the Commander's biased notes if she wanted. Erin would get feet on the ground, hit the pavement until she found something they could use.

* * *

Voight had been buried under a landslide of information all day, sifting through one horror after the other, not coming up for air. Or giving Erin a chance to mouth off again. She was hard to slow when she got indignant and the kid didn't like the Commander coming after him. Voight couldn't blame her, he didn't much care for it either, but he wasn't gonna let his own issues get in the way of the work they were here to do.

What ever the commander thought she had wouldn't add up, there was nothing there to even do the math with. She was grasping at straws and she would exhaust her reach soon enough. Voight wasn't concerned.

Even at the memory of the smug way the commander had questioned him, with a little too much confidence to be bluffing, it didn't matter.

Voight would pay intention to the work in front of him. Personal drama didn't have a place in his office.

He waited, working, until the office cleared and he was left alone. They had made little progress, every case they went through wholly unrelated to their own. He was beginning to think he may have been wrong, that what they were looking at was nothing more than mistaken ID. They needed to find Ringman, find answers, Voight stood, grimacing as his back strained. He needed a break.

His home stood empty, as shaded and bare as it met him everyday. It never changed. Familiar. Comfortable because it was constant. He put on a pot of coffee. It would keep him up, but he wouldn't be sleeping anyway.

Voight was not a man who grew lonely. The desire for just someone to talk to felt a little too general, a little too broad. There weren't many he could share with. He talked, to a great deal of people. Connections he kept up with in and out of the job. Had an understanding, mutually beneficial respect with men from either side of the law. It kept him busy enough. Made a home a relief, that there weren't people there to face like he faced his vacant walls.

But as he sat at his kitchen table, he glanced once at the place across from him, and wondered, for a moment longer than he usually let himself, what his evenings would be like, if there was someone sitting across from him.

He drained his cup, went to rinse it in the sink when he heard the text chime on his phone. He tossed aside the hand towel he'd dried his hands on and lifted his phone from the counter.

-Are you busy tonight?-

It chimed again immediately after, cutting off that flash of premature relief.

-I have something I could use your help with-

Voight typed out a response. _What do you need, Milani._

-Let us in and you'll find out.-

_us?_

His doorbell rang, and it echoed, growing softer through the house as Voight let out an unconscious chuckle.

Erin was on his doorstep, Lana standing a half step behind. Expectant and just a little impatient, Erin barely waited for him to step aside to enter. Her bag dropped by the door and she tugged a file from it.

"Officially, we don't have this." Erin warned.

Voight folded him arms."Is this about the case?" He looked between Erin and Lana as she stepped inside, slipping free of her jacket. Her ponytail had come loose, strands of black against her cheeks that she swiped one away unconsciously.

"Not exactly." Lana answered, "It's about you."

"Me?" Voight cocked a brow at her, and Lana silently cursed the way heat filled her cheeks. She was here to help, to straighten whatever mess of a case the commander was in the middle of forming. Erin had called demanding the file back and somehow they had decided just to deal with Voight together. But all she could think about was that moment in the hospital, clinging to him when she'd seen him. Lost herself in the relief instead of keeping her head like she should have and now she was here, wanting to do it again.

To step in between him and whatever they were trying to throw at him.

She cleared her throat, trying to push it all away as his gaze lingered longer than it should.

"We need to talk." Erin smacked the folder into his chest, and stepped by him to make herself comfortable in the livingroom.

* * *

Voight took a sip of his drink, watching Lana spread the papers out on the coffee table.

He didn't want to know where they had gotten that file, but they were laying her job on the line right here in his livingroom by having it. That Erin was doing it didn't surprise him anyway. But Lana? Apparently it was worth it, risking everything to learn what happened to Eric. And he waited, for her to ask him how he was involved like the Commander suspected he was.

"We need to do something about this." Erin started in.

Voight didn't look impressed. "The commander is pushing. I wouldn't expect any different."

"This isn't _pushing_ , Voight." Erin grabbed a couple pages from the table, "This is witness statements. Circumstantial evidence." She seemed frustrated that he wasn't getting it, and she didn't fluster easily.

Voight popped a brow at his drink. "Evidence of what?"

"Making it look like you _were_ involved." Erin tossed down the papers like the problem really should have been obvious by now. Voight eyed his daughter. If she was this worried about the case the commander was building it might be worth paying attention to.

"None of this makes sense, Voight," Lana's voice was quieter, her palms spread the papers, and Voight shrugged, glancing away. Erin wouldn't think he had done it, but Lana? The man she cared about was in a hospital bed and people seemed to think he had something to do with putting Eric there.

He studied the amber liquid in his cup. Is this what it had come to? Had she finally stumbled across that thing that would put the suspicion in her eyes. A completely laughable accusation?

"Voight." Lana snapped. How could he not be paying attention? and Erin couldn't help but feel a little pleased at Lana's sharp tone, glad she wasn't the only one taking this seriously.

"Look, You wanna know what happened to Eric. I get it. But I don't have your answers, Milani."

"You were there, Hank." Lana insisted.

Hank shrugged. "Yeah, and?"

Lana wanted to strangle him. "And we can go over what you _do_ know."

Erin watched the argument build between the two before interrupting. Lana was a little touchy about all this and they didn't need to get sidetracked.

"Look. There's witnesses saying that Ralph shot Eric because you 8told him to."

That got Voight's attention.

"So can we go over what we have now?" Erin asked?

Lana was quiet, as Erin took him through his side of the report, his conversation with Ralph, where he was when he heard the gunshots. It filled in the gaps, explained what the witnesses had really overheard, but it's not like they had proof.

"It says here you and Eric were seen arguing," Lana peered at him over the paper she read, waiting for an explanation, and Voight straightened.

"We had a disagreement," he allowed.

"About?" Erin demanded, and his gaze flicked to hers.

"Difference in leadership styles."

Erin's expression was unconvinced and pointedly telling him so. Lana was just watching him, softly waiting for more and Voight's lips thinned. What exactly could he tell her. That Eric was the reason she was out of the field, that Voight couldn't be sure he would even have her back when she went home? She had worked with the man for years, she didn't need his opinion to make her decision and he didn't need to butt in where he didn't belong.

"So you asked Ralph for information, then what?" Erin asked, and they went through it all again.

They exhausted every detail of Voight's side, trying to find something that made sense. Everything pointed to Ralph firing at Eric and the officer firing back.

"We know you didn't tell him to, so why'd he do it?" Erin asked for what felt like the fifth time and Voight contained a growl.

"I don't know. The kid had no motive. I'm not even buying that he had a gun."

"Witness saw the shooting. Ralph had a gun." Erin argued, "what, your CI's never violate parole?"

"The kid wasn't on parole, he was clean." Voight retorted, and Erin relented.

"Fine. Then what about Eric? Why was he in that alley?" She looked at Lana expectantly, and Voight saw her hesitate, an idea formed that she chose not to share.

"Uh, his memory is still a little foggy, but he was there dropping Voight off to meet his CI. Must have gotten out while he waited."

She felt Voight's gaze on her, but she didn't say it. That Eric had been lying, she just didn't know about what. That she had asked for a tox screen. It wouldn't do any good to give out information she wasn't even sure of.

Erin glanced at her watch, then stood with an expansive sigh.

"I gotta get home to Jay. But we'll keep looking Voight. We'll figure this out."

"Sure kid," he gave her a half smile, handed her a coat and accepted the hug goodnight.

He expected Lana to follow, to neatly gather up her papers and head for the door. But she tucked her feet beneath her, stretching out on the newly vacated space, pressed an absent finger between her teeth in concentration. She was sorting facts behind her eyes, considering and dismissing possibilities like he had seen her do dozens of times on the job.

She was invested, needing to get to the truth of what had happened to Eric in that alley.

"You gonna ask."

Lana glanced up midthought. "What's that?"

Voight gestured at the wall like it would explain something he couldn't. "If I had anything to do with this."

Her gaze faltered, first in confusion, then in something soft. "You didn't."

Her attention turned back, so simply, to the task at hand, but Voight wasn't satisfied with that.

"And you know that how?"

She paused, then set her pages in her lap with intentional action, visibly paying attention to him now. "Why are you asking this?"

"I'm dirty, Lana." He shrugged, "In some ways I still am. And you got evidence saying i'm guilty. I'd understand, if you..." he trailed off, lifting a hand to finish his sentence for him.

"If I what?" Lana frowned, "thought you did it?"

He shrugged, not quite meeting her gaze. She didn't know why he was doubting her, wasting time on questions she thought would never have to be asked, but she relented, even just to get him to focus.

"Is there anything in this case that the commander can come after you for."

Voight shook his head once. "No."

Her frown pursed in thought, then she nodded. "Good."

"Here, look at these," she pointedly turned her attention to the photos in the file, waved him over to her. Shifted as he took the place beside her, handing him the photos of the crime scene.

"Anything stand out to you?"

Voight flipped through them, angled shots of the alley. Blood where Eric had lain. Ralph dead on the pavement.

"No."

They went through page by page, and Voight felt the evidence slowly stacking against him. He had gone after criminals with less. Lana stayed on task, even when there was nothing left to ask, her arm brushing against his, warmth everytime she shifted. It mattered, that he wasn't facing this file alone. The light still burned as the night grew later, her head at some point falling softly against his shoulder. Her breath deep and even through her chest.

He could have moved, just enough so she would stir. Blink awake and check the time, mutter about how late it had gotten.

But he turned another page of the file, read words he had read over again as an excuse to stay, like this. Until his own head fell back against the couch, and the sound of their breath filled the room.

She woke in the hours before dawn, pressing away from his shoulder with a clumsy hand against his chest. He stirred beneath her touch, blinking against the light.

"Hey," voice roughened with sleep, he sat up, chest expanding beneath her fingers as he stretched. His fingers raised, touched the line on her cheek from the seam of his shirt. "You alright?"

She wouldn't remember, whether she moved alone or his hand drew her foreward, it was a movement so natural she didn't need to think.

But his fingers slid against the base of her neck, lips meeting hers, drunk with the sleep they had both just woken from.

He lifted her, setting her against his chest as her hands tugged impatiently at his collar, wanting to be closer. His hands flexing on her hips before tightening, pushing her back with sudden blinking clarity.

"What are you doing, Milani?"

"I'm sorry," her forehead dropped against his, their breath a battle for the air between them. "I'm sorry," she shook her head against him, "It's been a long day."

His breath was calming, his heartbeat not slowing quickly enough. A long day was an understatement, with a case they couldn't solve and the commander's witch hunt closing in.

"What do you want from me, Milani."

He would do a lot of things, but he wouldn't be what she used to make Eric jealous. Not again.

He was holding her, hands firm on her hips, not breaking away and she let her hands slide down his chest, struggling for an answer he would want to hear, too afraid to admit that she wanted everything.

"You make it easier."

And that was it, wasn't it. The truth behind every touch. It wasn't some callous means to an end. It never had been. They had given eachother something every time. Peace, a way to breathe without the world closing in.

Maybe if life had taught them different lessons, if love hadn't been learned quite so hard, they would have heard what the other didn't know how to say.

Maybe they wouldn't hold back, stop themselves from giving what they didn't understand the other truly wanted, instead of convincing themselves they were letting go.

Yet still they found themselves here, time and again like an inevitable destination. A wave that landed and fled, built and returned. Both gripped by an undertow they thought themselves alone in, not knowing that fighting a current was the surest way to drown.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled again, his hand catching her before she could leave.

"Don't be, Lana." He couldn't be.

They were past personal denial, each fully knowing they needed the other. Never believing they could be needed back.

He let her slip away, stood enough to give her room, gently convinced her to lie down. It was too late to try and go anywhere tonight

He tugged a blanket across her, and Voight turned off the light.

* * *

Lana woke, to light streaked through a window, the scent of coffee pulling her awake.

The room was bright, and she sat up with an audible yawn. A To go cup of coffee sat on the coffee table in front of her. A bagel just beside, still hot.

Voight was gone, and she had a text from Erin saying she had an idea for their case. Not the way she expected her day so start, but she might as well get at it.

She missed the note, tucked under the plate, scratched out in a quick scrawl.

-Had to run out, didn't want to wake you.

Thank you for the help, Milani-

She took a sip of her coffee and made sure the door locked behind her, texting Erin back that they could meet in an hour.

* * *

"So there was only one witness to the actual shooting," Erin talked around the pastry she was eating, offering Lana a bite. "So we find him, see if there's pieces he can fill in."

"He didn't give much in the actual report," Lana pointed out.

"Well maybe he remembered something else, in the meantime, we hope Eric remembers more."

"Right," but lana wasn't entirely sure that was going to help.

* * *

"I wish I could help you, Voight." Benson's voice came through the phone, and Voight paused on the corner of the sidewalk, "But the MO of your case isn't specific enough to do a profile on. We need more information."

"Yeah, and I don't have it."

The light changed and Voight cross the street, one in a crowd moving towards a dozen different destinations.

"I got some time, you want me to come up, see if another set of eyes helps?"

"I appreciate the offer," he sidestepped a teen on their phone blocking the sidewalk, and shook his head, "But I don't want to tie you up with this."

"Well, offer stands. Let me know. And I'll let you know if I come up with anything on my end."

Voight thanked her and ended the call. He knew it was a long shot, but Olivia had pulled off long shots before. Any insight she had would help.

* * *

"Nothing?" Erin asked, and Lana shook her head. They had a first name and a witness statement, but the personal info of the witnesses hadn't made it into their copy of the file, and they had been canvassing the neighbourhood all afternoon looking for this kid names Marcus.

The more doors Lana knocked on, the moor convinced she was that half of them probably knew and just weren't saying. Cops weren't exactly crowd favorites in this part of town.

Her phone rang and it took her a second to place the number. It was the hospital calling and she answered immediately, thoughts going to the tox screen results.

"Hello, Lani."

"Eric?"

Erin took interest, no doubt wondering if he called because he remembered something, and Lana turned away.

"Yeah. I'm on my room phone, don't have a charger for my cell."

"Oh, well how are you?" It occured to her she hadn't checked in in a while and she felt a flash of guilt.

"Doing better, should be discharged Monday. That's actually why I'm calling. They're asking for pick up arrangements. I can just arrange for a cab, but they asked me to put a name down just in case?"

Lana didn't respond right away, and he kept talking.

"It's just a technicality I suppose. You wouldn't be obligated to do anything, I know you have work."

"No, Eric, It's fine. Put me down, and just, let me know what time. I'll be there."

He thanked her, polite and cheerful as ever, and Lana hung up.

"Anything?" Erin asked, and rolled her as at Lana's head shake.

"Sorry, I know he just got shot, but we could really use his statement right now."

"Yeah," Lana stuffed her hands in her pockets, "well, one more block and we'll call it a day?"

Erin nudged her arm before heading off, "twelfth time's the charm."

* * *

Eric stretched on the bed, wincing as his stitches pulled. He was tired of this hospital room, couldn't wait to get out and get home.

The commander had called twice, wanting more information and he was running out of confidence in how long he could keep this up. He had fired in self defense, but hitting Voight's CI was something he didn't know how to explain. They hadn't pressed too hard about why he was in that alley to begin with, but it wouldn't be long until they started asking more questions.

He needed to figure out what he was going to do.

An officer stuck his head in, smile bright enough Eric almost felt threatened.

"Hey! You're Eric, right? I'm Rodney. Friend of Lana's, how you doing?"

Eric eyed this 'friend,' wondering just how friendly he had been with Lani.

"Feeling pretty good." It was a lie but he wasn't about to tell this guy otherwise.

"Good, good, so uh," Rodney glanced behind him before leaning in, "how's the case against Voight going?"

Case against _what_? Eric was quick enough to hide his confusion.

"How much have you heard?"

Rodney laughed, course Eric wouldn't want to give out info on active case, but everyone was talking about it. "Just the basics. How Voight put his CI up to it. I mean I'd heard stories about the guy but that is a new level of messed up."

"Right," Eric smiled, conscious that the heart rate monitor had changed, visually showing the increase of his pulse. He knew how to process information behind a charming exterior and he gave a its-really-a-shame shrug. "Well Voight has never been a very trustworthy cop. I'm surprised he's risen as far as he has, after the trouble he's had."

Rodeny's radio crackled, and he answered the call.

"Look, I gotta run," he tapped the doorframe, "but it's good to meet you man, glad you're doing alright."

He left Eric to his thoughts, and they didn't stop turning until he finally had it figured out.

He lifted the off white hospital phone, and put a call into Commander Crowley.

* * *

How could they still have nothing? Lana stared at the nearly bare shelves of her refrigerator, debating which leftover she was going to eat.

She decided on both.

She munched on an eggroll while her burger reheated, watching the seconds tick down on the microwave.

It had been a theme all week, finding nothing. She began to doubt any of them knew how to do their jobs anymore.

A text came in before she had barely taken a bite and she swiped at her phone, scowling at the ketchup she had just smeared on the screen.

It was not being a good day.

She rubbed it clean with her dishtowel and tossed it in the general direction of her wash as her phone dinged again.

-I located a charger. Hospital gift shops are rather like airports in some ways.-

-They are saying 10am for tomorrow. Are you sure you're okay to come? I can make other arrangements.-

Lana swore. She had completely forgotten about picking Erin up tomorrow, and she snatched up her phone, dialing Voight, mildly aware of the ketchup residue as she held it slightly away from her face.

"Lana."

It was his only greeting, and Lana blinked at her stove before snatching up a fry and dipping it in duck sauce.

"Hank," she retorted, just as short as she bit into the fry. It surprisingly wasn't bad, and she went for another.

His brief chuckle came through the line. "Sorry. I was working on something, wasn't expecting the call."

"Anything good?" Lana questioned, debating dunking the fries into the ketchup after the duck sauce before deciding that was a terrible idea.

"Olinsky thought he found something, I'm following up."

"On the kidnapping case?"

She felt his stern eyed look through the line.

"Only case I'm working on right now."

"Right."

"So what's up Milani."

Voight set aside the papers Olinsky had faxed over, and leaned back in his chair, gaze absentmindedly on the place she had fallen asleep, still been there when he had come down yesterday morning.

"Shift tomorrow, can I have the morning off?"

Voight was surprised, she didn't usually take personal time but she had plenty of it. "Yeah, everything okay?"

He heard her sigh. "I'm supposed to get Eric, he's being discharged."

She waited, several long seconds before he answered.

"Right. Take the day if you need it. It's fine."

"Thanks," she didn't like the sudden awkward feeling, like she had said something she shouldn't have, and she played with the little lip on the styrofoam container.

"You need anything else, Milani?"

"No, no that's all. Sorry to bother you, have a goodnight, Voight."

"Yeah, you too."

Lana puffed out a breath and stared at her burger.

* * *

"Is this everything?" Lana held the few belonging she had pulled out of the nondescript locker in the corner of the hospital room.

"Yes, I didn't have much." Eric grinned at her, pale, but he looked a world better than the last time she had seen him.

"Well your rental car is downstairs." They had recovered it from the scene and it had been sitting in the evidence garage. "I'll take you wherever you need."

"My hotel, please."

He winced some as he slipped into the passenger seat, hand on his side where the bullet had punctured, and Lana sent him a sympathetic look.

"It's fine," he smiled at her concern, pulled his phone from his bag and frowned. "I didn't realize the date. My room was only booked until Friday. I have to make a call."

She drove while he talked to the front desk, overheard him explaining the situation before he hung up with a long suffering sigh.

"They have my things but gave my room to someone else. I booked another, but check-in's not til 3. I suppose I can wait in the lobby."

He didn't asked. He never just outright asked. Instead he laid out an unfortunate situation and just waited for you to offer. Lana gritted her teeth.

"You shouldn't be stuck in a waiting room in your condition. You can wait in my apartment."

His smile was blinding and Lana returned it as best she could. Helping someone who had been shot shouldn't feel like an imposition, but she didn't like not being at the office. There was too much going on and she didn't want to miss something important.

She got Eric settled, every minute it took another anxious look at the clock. She was never getting out of here.

Thirty minutes later she was on the stairs to Intelligence when her phone rang and she answered Erin's call.

"Where the f- are you."

Lana came to a dead stop. "What happened."

"Voight's been suspended."

Lana hung up. Took the stairs two at a time and entered a tense room.

"Where is he?"

Erin looked up from where she was cursing out her phone for dropping the call.

"Gone," she flung a hand at his open office door. "Crowley had him escorted home."

"How, Why was he suspended?"

Ruzek tossed the stress ball he had stolen from Attwater and caught it, leaned back in his chair. "Your boy gave his statement."

Lana turned dangerous eyes on him. "My who did _what_?"

"Lana!" Antonio reached the top of the stairs, "Platt said you were here. You heard?"

"You find anything out?" Erin interrupted, and Antonio shook his head.

"Platt doesn't know any more than we do."

"And what is that, exactly?" Lana asked as Erin paced away in agitation.

"This is unbelievable. Her looking into him was bad enough, but suspension? She's not gonna get away with this."

"Someone tell me WHAT IS GOING ON."

Lana's voice snapped through the distraction, and Ruzek let out a low whistle.

"Look," Antonio propped on the edge of the desk in front of her, "it isn't good. the commander got a second witness statement that confirms Voight set Ralph up to take the shot."

"And why is today the first I'm hearing about all of this?" Ruzek popped up in his seat, fingers flexed on his desktop.

They ignored him.

"Who was the witness?" Lana had spent all weekend canvassing that neighbourhood. They hadn't found any of the original witnesses, let alone anyone else who had seen anything.

Antonio held her gaze. "It was Eric."

Sound was muffled as the words echoed in her mind.

"Eric?" She couldn't quite believe it.

"This is bull," Erin threw her pen down on her desk. "It's not possible, Lana. I don't know what Eric thought he saw but he's wrong."

Lana walked away. Antonio tried to stop her, atleast ask her where she was going, but it didn't slow her down. She met Platt's gaze as she crossed the lobby, and it held thinly veiled accusation.

Like she was responsible for this.

* * *

Eric started when the door banged up, face turning ashen at the flash of pain. She noticed. She didn't care.

"What the hell did you do?!"

"Lani, what's going on?" he rose slowly, carefully.

"That's what I want to know. Voight just got suspended."

Eric shook his head sadly, "It was bound to happen eventually. I'm just glad the correct steps are being taken."

"Steps for what?!" she started pacing, anything to stop her from hitting him. He was a gunshot victim, she had to remember that.

"I know it's hard to hear, but he was involved Lani. I remembered what happened and-"

"No." it wasn't loud but it was enough to silence him.

"No what?"

"Tell the truth, Eric. For once in your life tell the truth." Her hands were shaking. White and fisted and pressed into her thighs so hard it hurt.

Eric was indignant now. "How could you be doubting me, Lani. For someone like Voight? He doesn't deserve your loyalty. If you knew half of what I know about him you'd-"

"What makes you think I don't?" Lana snapped at him. "I know what kind of man he is. I know what kind of cop he is. And I would trust him in a heartbeat over you any day!"

"You're being emotional, Lani," Eric chastised, stepping forward, "Let's sit down and talk about this."

"Get out." She was so beyond anger his words didn't even effect her. "Get out before I put you out."

He watched her, waiting to see if she was serious. If it had really come to this.

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Lani. I'll go now.'

He was at the door, looking back once more like he was giving her the chance to reconsider.

"We're going to find out what really happened, Eric," and she smiled.

And in that moment, Eric began to doubt.

* * *

"Answer your stupid phone," Lana grumbled, trying Voight once again as buildings passed by. The driver knew better than to make conversation, came to an abrupt halt on Voight's street and accepted the cash she threw at him with a wave.

He answered the door on the third knock, looked her over like he wished he was surprised.

"Milani. What can I do for you?"

He was remarkably calm, and he gaze dropped to the glass in his hand.

"Are you drunk?"

He rocked back on his heels, like he was considering. "Not yet."

"Are you going to let me in?"

He was speaking before she even finished. "Why are you here."

Lana crossed her arms, off balance by everything about this. "I heard what happened."

"Finally listening to office gossip?"

"Hank," Lana stepped froward, "Let me in. Please?"

He looked down, at the hand she had placed on his arm, before stepping back.

He closed the door behind her, went to speak when she took the cup from his hand and drained the last of it.

His brow popped. "You good, Milani?"

She paced away from him. "I should be asking you that." she muttered.

He shrugged. "I've had worse."

"This doesn't make any sense." she dropped the glass on the table in the entryway.

"Why are you here, Milani?" he questioned again, and Lana faced him.

"I wanted to make sure you were alright."

He laughed once, looking away, a reckless kind of sarcasm in his eye.

"That's good. Your man told you I got him shot, and you're just checking in?"

"I was _worried_ about you," Lana shout back. "and Eric isn't my man."

"Plan didn't work then did it?" Voight brushed by her for the glass, going for another drink, and she caught his arm.

"What plan?"

"It's none of my business, Milani," he backtracked, like he regretted even saying something, but Lana wasn't letting this go.

"What are you _talking_ about Hank."

He shook his arm free. "I heard, Lana. Your plan to make Eric jealous."

Lana's mouth popped open. "My...what?"

His smile was bitter, deep in his eyes like buried anger.

"Snuggling up to Antonio wasn't enough to do it. Guess I was phase two?"

"Voight," Lana was shaking her head, a tiny jerky movement, "you don't understand."

"No I _don't_ understand," he stepped into her suddenly, backing her against the table with a clatter. "How you could be planning to go back to that. He won't have your back Milani. You don't care that he's lying now, but care about that. You can't work for him."

"I'm not gonna work for him!" Lana sputtered, humiliation and anger burning the back of her throat. She never thought that stupid drunken stunt with Antonio would make it this far. How long did Hank think that was what she was doing? "I never was, but you were so ready to get rid of me you weren't willing to hear it!"

"Get rid of you?" Voight scoffed, "Why the hell would I want to do that, Milani."

"Because I screwed up!" He crowded over her and she glowered up at him, hips against the hard edge of the table. "I screwed up and you told me to go home!"

"You wanted to go!" Hoarse voice shouted into her, "Back to Miami and your work, and back to Eric!"

"I never wanted ERIC!" pure frustration filled her like a shot of adrenaline and she trembled at the sudden eerie calm in Voight's eyes.

"Don't lie to me, Milani." His hand met the wall behind her, body leaning into her space as his gaze never left hers. "I saw you in the hospital. You fell apart when he got shot. People don't react like that for someone they don't care about."

Her breath hitched, and something inexplicable filled her eyes. They swelled with tears, wide and almost frightened. Voight felt his anger die.

"Lana?"

She squeezed her eyes shut, opened them with a shaky breath and met his gaze.

"I thought it was you." her whisper, the admittance, wrote confusion across his face.

"I don't-" he shook his head, not understanding.

"We didn't know who was hurt." her voice wavered, her hands gripping the edge of the table behind her. Wanting to run, away from his eyes and the part bursting inside of her that just wanted him to know. "I thought it was _you_."

Voight felt it again, her crashing into him, holding him in that hospital hall. His head was shaking.

"I'm sorry," her words caught, "I know you don't, you never wanted that from me. I get it. But don't you _dare_ stand there and say any of that was for Eric."

There was fire building behind tear washed eyes, pulse a rapid thud in her ears.

"I fell apart, Hank, because of you."


	20. Stay

"Hank Voight, you are suspended, pending the investigation of your involvement in the shooting of Eric Watts."

Voight eyed the Commander standing across from his desk, flanked with officers on either side.

"On what grounds."

His calmness felt like an irritating amount of arrogance, so certain nothing could take him down, and the Commander sniffed.

"The testimony of Detective Eric Watts."

There, she saw it, a faint flinch in his gaze like she had struck a nerve. He hadn't been expecting her to find enough evidence, but she had. Not enough to arrest but enough to get him off of this job and out behind the cover of his badge.

"Surrender your badge and gun. And leave the premises."

She could tell he debated it. A hard calculating look as temper threatened to flare, and she nodded just enough for her officers to step forward. This was _her_ precinct, her office, and there wouldn't be any disillusionment of who was in charge.

"This is gonna play out, Commander," his badge hit the desk with a satisfying thud, "You're wasting resources when I got a case to solve." His weapon was placed with less force just beside.

"A case your people never got permission to reopen." The commander pointed out, "An oversight that will be corrected. In your absence."

An officer stepped forward, reaching for Voight's arm to escort him out when a look stopped him cold.

"I'll walk by myself, kid."

And he did. Past Erin's furious expression and the restraining hand Jay had on her arm. Past the desk that stood empty, Lana still out, still helping Eric, whose testimony was forcing Voight out the door. Did she know?

They disappeared down the stairs and Erin jerked away from Jay.

"We're not seriously going to let this happen, are we!"

"...What just happened?" No one seemed to be in the mood to answer Attwater's question.

"Look, we'll figure something out," Jay reached for Erin again, her look making it clear she was not in the mood to be touched.

"I'm going to see what's going on. Platt should know something."

But Antonio cut her off. "Not in that mood you aren't. We don't need you starting something with the commander when Voight's already on thin ice. I'll go."

"He's right," Jay added, "you need to cool off some."

Erin didn't look happy, but she relented.

Attwater glanced at his watch, "Oh shoot, Jay, the meeting." he grabbed his coat, waving Jay along. They were already late and this whole fiasco could wait.

"Babe, I gotta go," Jay had completely forgotten they were meeting a witness today, "You'll be alright?" he hesitated at her side, halfway through shrugging into his coat, and Erin just shook her head at him.

"Yes. Go. I'll be fine." She waved them out, taking a slow breath.

"So..." Ruzek began in the suddenly almost vacant space.

Erin sent him a dark glance, 'Shut it, Alan."

* * *

"That's all I know, kid." Platt tapped the stack of papers she held into a straight line, and jammed them under the stapler.

Antonio frowned, Erin was gonna want more than that. All Platt could say was Eric's statement had been enough to suspend Voight already, and they had just witnessed that upstairs.

"Well if you hear anything else..."

Platt's frown was tense, "You got it."

He moved for the stairs when he was interrupted. "Detective Dawson." The commander stood in her office doorway, regarding him expectantly, "A word."

* * *

Antonio took the seat across from her, keenly aware that Platt's gaze had tracked every step he had made into this office.

"Did you need something, Commander?"

Emma Crowley's gaze passed over him once, assessing. She knew full well the rocky way Antonio had come to work under Hank Voight, and he had always been the uncertain link in that unit's errant chain.

"We have a case against Voight, Detective. Witness statement's, a detective's report. I'm sure you've heard something of this by now."

Antonio nodded enough to admit that rumours were flying everywhere, and he may have heard a few.

"We have enough to suspend, obviously. But I don't want to push for arrest until what we have is solid."

Antonio spread his hands. "How do I come in?"

Crowley set back in her seat, "We need motive. I know they argued but we need more than that. You work with the man. Have you seen anything, professionally or personally, to indicate why he would go after Eric Watts?"

He went to deny it, when one face filled his mind.

_Lana_.

Eric was here to take away the woman Voight loved. What more of a motive did anyone need?

He cleared his throat.

* * *

Voight poured a drink, and let it sit in his hand, looking at him. He hadn't actually thought it would get this far.

He set the drink aside, reaching for a folder on the children's case. Read without taking anything in before dropping the folder with a scoff.

Eric Watts had finally given a statement. What was supposed to take the wind out of Crowley's pursuit and get them all back focused on the job at hand, had somehow been the cincher she needed.

What the hell could Eric have said?

It worried him. It worried him because the truth wouldn't have done it. Eric had lied.

Voight wasn't a stranger to less than upfront reports. Conveniently worded statements that left the truth just a little in the background. He was aware of the grey area that they sometimes had to operate in. And to be frank he did it well.

Sometimes people made mistakes, or criminals learned to reside in between the letters of the law. Sometimes steps had to be taken and sometimes lies had to be told.

For his team. For the job. For the safety of the people in it.

But of everything he had learned about Eric, one thing was obvious. The man lied to protect himself.

Voight didn't know what had gone down in that alley. At this point only Eric knew and he was content to put the blame on Voight. It shouldn't surprise him. Self preservation fueled the crime that filled his city streets. But they were supposed to be above that. They were supposed to be working against that.

And when Lana went home, she would be working _for_ that. For a man that got his own back at the expense of others. That messed with Lana's life here just to convince her to move back home and did it all with a charming smile. Lana should never have to be in that position, with a leader who wouldn't have her back. She couldn't work for a man like that.

How had she _fallen_ for a man like that?

He supposed maybe it was easy. Years had gone in to their partnership, their relationship, and Lana saw the best in people with a frightening amount of persistence. She saw something in Eric, enough to fight to win him back. Enough to use what was at hand to make him jealous. But did she see this side of Eric. Did she know he had lied?

Or did she believe him?

He downed his drink and poured another. It would be down to his words against Eric's, and he didn't want to think about what she would choose.

* * *

"Look, commander. I don't always agree, or even like the man. But I think you're off base with this one."

Crowley's brow peaked, "How so."

Antonio leaned forward. "Voight put the call into the ambulance. Kept pressure on the wound so Eric wouldn't bleed out before they arrived. Why would he do that if he wanted him dead?"

Crowley shrugged, "Could have been concerned about witnessed at that point. Attention drawn from the gunfire."

"And? There's a dozen different ways he could have let Eric die while looking like he was helping him."

The commander's expression turned questioning at how easily Antonio seemed aware of that information, and Antonio moved on.

"Point is, why order a hit just to save the guy's life."

Crowley didn't look remotely swayed. "Eric's statement shows the shooter naming Voight as being behind it before he fired."

"Maybe so," Antonio shrugged. He wasn't getting anywhere and he knew it. "But as for motive?" He drew in a short breath, "I can't think of a single thing Voight had against the guy. Professionally or personally."

He stood, "Is there anything els, Commander?"

She dismissed him, and Antonio headed for the stairs, feeling Platt's disapproving look on him the entire way.

* * *

More drinks later and that knock sounded. Somehow Voight knew it would be her.

Here to yell at him maybe, or ask for the truth, some way to make sense of what Eric had told her.

Maybe just to ask him why, why he had done it.

"Milani." He looked at her there on his doorstep, "What can I do for you?"

He wasn't going to let her in, didn't want to see that defensive anger burn in her for a man that didn't deserve it. But he should have known he wasn't gonna last. A hand on his arm, gaze barely pleading, and he was stepping inside, watching as she brushed past him into his own home. Letting her in once again.

She was on edge, frustrated enough she couldn't stand still and he waited for her to admit why she had come. Instead of keeping up the guise that she was here to see if he was okay.

"Why are you here, Milani?" he questioned again, and Lana faced him.

"I wanted to make sure you were alright."

He laughed once, looking away, a reckless kind of sarcasm in his eye.

"That's good. Your man told you I got him shot, and you're just checking in?" He wasn't used to this feeling, this anger. It had been so long since he wanted someone bad enough to feel this sick at the thought of them with someone else.

"Snuggling up to Antonio wasn't enough to do it. Guess I was phase two?" He could have done it, he swore he could have kept his cool if Eric was worth her wanting him. But he didn't just have to let her go. He had to let _him_ have her.

She was indignant, hand on his arm, demanding to know what he was talking about, and he wished he didn't love it, the fire she held in her eyes. He shook his arm free like if he broke the touch he would break this feeling.

"I heard, Lana, about your plan to make Eric jealous."

Confusion, looking at him like she didn't know what he was talking about, telling him he just didn't understand and some part of his control broke.

"No I _don't_ understand," he stepped into her suddenly, backing her against the table with a clatter. "How you could be planning to go back to that? He won't have your back, Milani." She needed to know that. She could love Eric all she wanted, but Voight needed her safe. She could handle the job just fine, but selfish leaders got good cops killed. "You don't care that he's lying now, but care about _that_. You can't work for him."

"I'm not gonna work for him!" She railed at him, so angry he saw the tension in her jaw, the way her chin tilted to glare up at him. "I never was, but you were so ready to get rid of me you weren't willing to hear it!"

Get rid of her? "Why the _hell_ would I want to do that, Milani." How would she ever think that would be true. How could she think he ever wanted her anywhere other than here. Angry and screaming up at him with more heat than Voight had felt for too long in his life. Why would he ever willingly give that up, if he had any choice at all. If what he wanted _mattered_ at all.

"Because I screwed up! I screwed up and you told me to go home!"

"You wanted to go!" She wouldn't play this like he was the one pushing her out when she made it clear how often she was thinking about leaving. "Back to Miami, and back to Eric!"

"I never wanted ERIC!"

She denied it, like an insult to his anger, the way she had used him to get Eric back and now she thought she could pretend he couldn't see it?

"Don't lie to me, Milani." His hand met the wall behind her, body leaning into her space as his gaze never left hers. "I saw you in the hospital. You fell apart when he got shot. People don't react like that for someone they don't care about."

Her breath hitched, and something inexplicable filled her eyes. They swelled with tears, wide and almost frightened.

Voight felt his anger die. Vacant and just waiting for her to admit it. The longer her silence held the emptier his chest felt until he couldn't take it anymore.

"Lana?" _Just say it._ He didn't want to have to wait any longer for her to tell him she was in love with Eric.

She squeezed her eyes shut, opened them with a shaky breath and met his gaze.

"I thought it was you." with a whisper, gone was the admittance he was expecting, and Voight shook his head.

"I don't-" he didn't understand.

"We didn't know who was hurt." Her voice wavered, her hands gripping the edge of the table behind her, shoulders hunched forward as if to hide. "I thought it was _you_. I'm sorry," the words caught, "I know you don't, you never wanted that from me."

Never wanted _what_ from her? To be that torn at the thought of _him_ being hurt? To have seen how much she cared for Eric and wished a thousand times over he could feel one drop of that for him? He relived every moment. The fear in her as she had clung to him, the tears and panic in her eyes, he had been sadistic enough to latch on to every tremulous touch. It had been for Eric. Eric was shot and she was terrified, it had been obvious to everyone there.

And now she was, she was?

"I get it." Lana scoffed. The way he was looking at her, tense with confusion, almost willfully not understanding. "But don't you _dare_ stand there and say any of that was for Eric."

His hand fisted against the wall, breath tight and controlled in his chest. Line of his jaw flexing as his mouth worked with words he didn't know how to say.

There was fire building behind tear washed eyes, pulse a rapid thud in her ears. "I fell apart, Hank, because of you."

* * *

She counted the seconds, the silence that passed behind unreadable eyes, feeling the humiliation spread.

"Lana, I-" But she shook her head, not ready to hear it, the rejection.

"Forget it, Voight." she tried to duck away but his left hand met the table with a thud, cutting her off.

"I _never_ wanted you to go." He didn't know how to believe her. Stubborn heart doubting what should have been obvious, but he couldn't let her walk away.

It raced across her skin, watching him fight the words she never thought he would say. "I thought you'd be happy there. Miami. with Eric. I thought it's what you wanted but I-"

He turned away, hand scrubbing across his mouth, leaving her standing in what felt like sudden cold.

"But what?" Lana asked, aware that her voice shook, as he turned back to her. Eyes frank and open and holding an expression she had never seen before. Like when sunlights spreads and the leaves turn golden and you're standing in a space that's free.

"I want you here. On my team. Dammit Lana. I just," he shook his head like he had given up ever pretending otherwise. "I want _you_."

There were two steps between them. Two steps of space and doubt that he didn't know if she even wanted him to cross but Lana didn't wait. She crashed into him. No hesitation. No uncertainty. A single response, body and soul, and he caught her against him.

He couldn't let her go. Wouldn't dare to. She laughed, breathless against his lips and felt him grunt in response.

Two people, melded together. Drawn to eachother, into eachother. They had danced, for months they had danced around one unavoidable truth. Stepping together and away, synchronized pulses, but always coming back.

Chased and being chased. She couldn't avoid it and neither could he.

She broke and she let herself, felt his thumb catch the tear as it fell.

"Hank-" she buried her head in his neck, pressed her hands into his back as he slipped an arm around her. Breathed in the scent of warm sandalwood, felt the rough texture of his shirt against her cheek.

There was a knock at the door, three insistent raps. Voight barely lifted his head from where it rested on hers.

"You gonna get that?" Lana asked, and felt the arms around her rise and fall in a shrug.

"Not worth leaving this."

It was ridiculous the rush of girlish joy that hit her from one short sentence. Voight felt her snuggle closer with a tiny little sound, and lifted his head enough to look at her.

Her cheek was tinged pink, his hand cupped her cheek, fingers tilting her chin enough to see her. She buried her face against his hand, trying to hide the blush and he laughed. He couldn't help it.

"Shut up."

His knuckles brushed over her lips as she grumbled, and she grew distracted at the way he smiled, how it lit his whole face.

"It's a good look on you."

The knock came again, louder. Olinsky's voice coming through the door.

"Quit taking your time, it's windy out here!"

Voight rolled his eyes. "Give me a second."

He crossed to the door, aware of the way Lana slipped into the hall, no doubt wanting to avoid having to explain why she was here.

"You need something, O?" he opened the door without saying hello, and Olinsky huffed.

"Figured you'd want these." He shoved a box at Voight. "Commander isn't letting us work on it at the office. You gonna invite me in?"

"No." Voight didn't even consider, and Olisnky's mouth twitched.

"You wound me." He went to leave, before he paused.

"Did you do it?"

"Do what?" Voight snapped, and Olinksy rocked his head to the side in thought.

"Detective Watts, you involved?" He figured he might as well ask, if Crowley came crawling then he'd know what they were dealing with.

Voight's tongue passed over his teeth. "No."

"Alright," it was enough for Olinksy, and he turned. "Oh, and uh, tell Milani I said 'hey,'"

He winked once, before flipping his collar up and jogging away. He had known Hank Voight for enough decades to know something had been up. Voight wasn't an easy read but if he was patient enough he could usually figure it out. That Lana had gotten under his skin had slowly become apparent. This? That had just confirmed it. Voight had just been suspended, and for something he hadn't even done. Normally he'd be out for blood and not shy about how he planned on getting it.

He wouldn't be answering his door with that blasted glimmer in his eye and the faint scent of roses.

Milani was there and Voight looked suspiciously like happiness. Olinsky was just glad to stay out of it.

Lana was a spitfire and a steady cop. If Voight was lucky enough to convince a woman like that to stick around, well, he deserved it.

* * *

"What are we doing here?" Antonio asked, hands on his hips at the end of the alley. Erin stood a few paces ahead, arms folded and gaze roaming the pavement.

"We need to figure out what actually happened. And you didn't need to come."

"Look, I don't think he did it, okay?" His hands were in his pockets and his jacket tugged open as he spread his hands in a shrug, "so you can stop thinking I'm gonna mess this up for you. I'm here to help."

"Then help," Erin walked to the edge of the alley, police chalk still visible where Eric had been shot. "The kid supposedly sees him," she pointed at Antonio, and he stepped to where the report said Ralph had fallen, "Names Voight and fires. Hits Eric, but he fires back."

"Hits and kills Ralph," Antonio took over. "Single shot to the chest. Good shooting."

"Yeah, especially with a bullet whole in his side," Erin responded, her hand pressed against her side.

"Lucky shot maybe? So Ralph drops, loses his grip on the gun, dead before he hits the ground."

"But Eric drags himself over to him," Erin stepped closer, "Why?" she asked, taking another step.

"Neutralize the threat?" Antonio suggested the possibility, but Erin didn't seem convinced.

"He would have been in agony. Drug himself part of the way. Ralph wouldn't have even been moving."

"So what are you thinking, he crawled over for a different reason?"

Erin had almost closed the distance now, each step an inspection of the ground like it would have the answers they needed. At the very least it helped her think.

"They didn't find anything on Ralph's body. A wallet but there wasn't much in it." She muttered, and Antonio cocked a brow.

"Just a wallet? What a bout a phone."

Erin came to a stop in front of him. "Report said he didn't have one."

"What teenage kid you know doesn't have a cell phone?"

Erin crossed her arms, "Well not every kid can afford one, Antonio."

He leaned in just enough to smirk. "Then how did Voight text him to meet him here."

Erin shoved his shoulder back. "We need to find that cellphone."

Two pairs of eyes turned towards the dumpster, neither one ready to dive in.

"You're smaller. You'll fit better."

"You're taller, you can reach better." Erin shot back, and Antonio backed up a step.

"He's your semi-dad."

Erin ground out a long sigh. "Fine."

"Wait," Antonio caught her arm, "Eric was on the ground."

She paused long enough for realisation to dawn, and a grin formed. "He was on the ground."

Antonio dropped to the pavement, pulling out a light, shining it under the dumpster. There were lumps and shadows he did not want to identify, then something glinted in the back.

"There, I think I see it."

It took some stretching, and navigating a few questionable scents, but Erin pulled out the phone.

"Screen's busted" she muttered, flipping it over, "but the cards probably still intact."

"Well," Antonio bumped her elbow with his own, "let's see what's on it."

* * *

"I'm supposed to be helping you," Lana muttered in between the brush of his lips and the pass of his hand down her side.

"You are helping me," Voight countered, pushing aside the file in her lap until it hit the floor. The box Olinsky had brought sat beside him, open and barely touched. She had reached across Voight for another folder and his hand had caught her own.

Now it gripped her thigh, tugging her impatiently on to him.

"What changed?" Lana asked, wanting to know how they had come to this, how he had come to wanting her here after everything.

"What do you mean?" his fingers trailed up her arm, over the raised shivers of her skin, slipped across her collar bone.

"You didn't used to want this, Voight."

He hummed beneath her kiss. "Tried not to." his hand slipped over the curve of her hip beneath the hem of her shirt. "Guess I wasn't too good at it."

"How long?" her voice went light as the pads of his fingers traced her skin.

"Long enough I thought it'd never happen," his shoulders bounced in a rough shrug, trying to hide the way his voice almost cracked. "Long enough to drive myself insane."

"I wish I had known," she raised up enough to slip hers arms around his neck, rest her forehead against his neck, wanting to her the thud of his heart.

She felt him swallow, his fingers playing with a loose thread on her sleeve, suddenly uncertain, and she sat up.

"How, um, how long for you?" his head cocked and he looked up at her.

"What? How long since I started thinking about you when I shouldn't have been?" His hands gripped her arms, eyes locked on hers with every word. "Wishing you were there when I turned out the light?" His fingers tightened. "You got under my skin and I didn't want to want you there. But I couldn't seem to stop."

"Seeing you with Benson drove me insane," she admitted it against his lips, and he let out a shaky curse.

"I had no idea. I never thought you would want," he broke off with a shake to his head

"I wanted the right to hold you. To be _with_ you. You have no idea how many times I wanted to ask you to stay."

He kissed her, until her heart raced and her body felt weak, until she was panting for air and locked tight against him.

"Then stay, please, tonight."

He kissed her again, until her fingers gripped the back of the couch and she was damp with sweat from the heat of their bodies.

"Please, Lana. Just stay."


	21. Eventually

It was the sound of her phone ringing that woke her, stretched out on an unfamiliar bed, the weight of a hand on her stomach. Voight was still asleep. She scrambled for her phone, dismissing the call before it woke him.

Part of her couldn't believe she was still here, had spent the night asleep against him. Slept like she hadn't in she didn't know how long. She settled back down, turning to face him, smiling as he moved in his sleep, his hand slipping over her side to pull her a little closer. Light was coming in from a half pulled shade, and it had begun to make its way across the floor. But his face still lay in shadow. It looked younger, here. Gentler maybe.

She was content to let herself drift off again when her phone buzzed twice. Whoever had called had left a voicemail.

Lana fumbled around blindly for her phone behind her, not quite willing to move. She found it half shoved beneath her pillow, and tugged it out enough to look at it.

Lana sat up. It was the hospital. She tucked the phone against her ear, glancing around for a clock. A small black one stood on the end table, red lit numbers reading 7:03. Lana muttered a surprised curse. How Hank wasn't awake yet, she didn't know. The man hardly ever slept.

She listened to the voicemail, the tox results were in and the doctor wanted to see her. Whatever he had could help sort out this case against Voight and Lana flipped the blankets off. If she hurried she could hit the hospital and would only be minimally late to shift.

She crept across the floor, gathering her things, tugging her fingers through her hair and yanking it into a ponytail. She didn't want to wake Voight, he didn't have to come into shift today. It wasn't exactly a vacation, but she figured she might as well let the man sleep. He didn't get enough of it.

Halfway down the stairs her phone rang again, and Lana rolled her eyes. Why did everyone need her today. The one morning she would have gladly procrastinated as long as humanly possible, and suddenly she was a necessary part of their lives.

"What," she hissed into the phone, reaching the bottom step.

Erin responded without even noticing. "Where are you?" Lana froze. How the freak was she supposed to answer that. But Erin continued, "We're trying to get data from a phone and Antonio keeps screwing around." Antonio's voice sounded in protest in the background. Erin ignored him. "You're usually here by now."

Lana's phone traded hands as she shrugged into her coat, "And the phone's locked?" she asked, getting Erin back to the subject at hand.

"Damaged, cracked screen."

"Ah," Lana stepped outside, squinting at the sunlight. "there's a program on my computer." She put the phone on speaker long enough to text a cab, "I'll walk you through it."

* * *

"Got it." Antonio pushed back from the keyboard, shooting Erin a particularly proud of himself look, and she rolled his chair out of the way, focusing on the computer screen.

There were texts, nothing too interesting. Certainly nothing incriminating to Voight but nothing to vindicate him either. They scrolled through contacts, recent calls, looking for something to help.

"Hey, try photos." Antonio suggested.

"What, you think he took a selfie during the shooting?" Erin muttered, but she clicked on the folder icon anyway. She opened the most recent media file and Antonio let out a whistle.

"Not a selfie. A video. This is time stamped right before the shooting."

It barely played, glitched and stuttered and Antonio swore. "Well that's not supposed to be happening."

"The phone was broken, it probably corrupted the file or something."

"Well what are we supposed to do with this?" Antonio gestured at the screen, and Erin smacked his hand away.

"Be quiet, it looks like it's clearing up."

Antonio stood, peering over Erin's shoulder. It was jerky, but they could make out some of the scene.

"Okay, we got Eric in the back." Erin squinted at the image like it would force it clearer.

Antonio leaned in. "And we got another person in that alley."

They made out what they could of the rest, garbled audio and stilted images until the screen went black.

Best they could see, Eric had pulled his weapon on Ralph, but Ralph had still been recording when Eric had fired at him. He couldn't have taken the shot that dropped Eric a second later, and he never named Voight as having hired him. The only audio was someone cussing out Eric for being a cop. Erin rewound the footage, freezing the image of that third person in the ally. Whoever this guy was, they needed to find him.

* * *

Lana tugged the door to the precinct open, papers still crumpled in her hand. The doctor had been apologetic but hadn't minced words. Eric had been high. That self-righteous, smug, _I got clean because of you, Lani_ had been using when he had pulled that trigger and dropped Voight's CI in that alley.

He had been hiding this, it was only a matter of time before she figured out what else he was hiding.

Platt tried to wave her down as she cut through the lobby. The commander had been looking for Officer Milani and Platt wanted a word with Milani before she said anything to Crowley. The last thing they needed was Lana or Antonio dishing out information to the commander that she didn't need to hear.

But Lana didn't see her, not before the commander snagged her and ordered Milani into her office.

Platt muttered under her breath. This whole thing was going to turn into a train wreck if she didn't do something soon.

* * *

"Have a seat."

Lana sat, smoothing her expression as she faced the woman behind the desk. She was not in the mood to deal with this. What she needed to be was upstairs, filling Erin in on what she had found and finding other leads.

"How can I help you, Commander?"

Crowley eyed her a moment like her smile wasn't all that convincing.

"As I'm sure you're aware, I am working on the case regarding your ex partner and Hank Voight's suspension. I know you haven't been here long, but any information you have may prove helpful."

"Information?" The pages crinkled in Lana's hand.

"Anything you can think of as to why Voight would do this."

"He wouldn't." Lana snapped back, sharper than she intended, and the commander looked surprised.

"I read up on you, Milani. You have a record as straight as they come, a by-the-books officer if I've ever seen one. Working under Voight undoubtedly put you in some uncomfortable positions."

When Lana didn't respond, the commander stood, coming to lean against her desk in front of Milani.

"I'm not asking you for information against your team. But from one officer to another, don't cover for a man like Voight. He isn't worth it. It's hard enough having a dependable name for yourself without dealing with another cop's mistakes."

A lesson Lana had learned well. With Eric. Not Voight. She stood, "It's interesting, you're so set on not believing Voight, you haven't actually considered who you _are_ listening to."

She dropped the result papers on the desk.

"What's this?" the commander twisted to retrieve the papers, scanning them.

"Tox repots. Eric was under the influence at the time of the shooting." She enjoyed it, the flash of disappointment on Crowley's face. "You're building this case around the word of a druggie."

The commander read a moment longer before setting the papers down. "This is unfortunate. and will be dealt with, but it doesn't make Voight innocent."

"You can't seriously still think Eric's telling the truth!" Lana's voice rose to an unnecessary level and the commander straightened.

"Officer Milani!" her snap silenced the room, "I understand your frustration, having to learn this about your ex-partner. But don't let it blind you. Whatever Eric has done, Voight has done far worse."

Lana sucked in a breath, losing her cool in front of Crowley was not the way to make her case.

"You're dismissed."

Lana turned on her heel, feeling Crowley's eyes on her as she left.

The commander sighed to the empty room. She didn't know what it was about Sergeant Voight that drummed up loyalty in the most unexpected places. Lifting the papers she shook her head at them.

This complicated things. She had to solidify the other testimonies now that Eric's could be questionable. She called one of her officers, telling them to bring Marcus in for an interview. Then she put a call into Eric's precinct in Miami. They needed to be informed about what their detective had been up to.

* * *

Antonio twisted the cap off his water. "So we ID the kid, maybe be we find the actual shooter."

"Or at the very least figure out why Eric was in that alley." Erin reasoned around the spoonful of yogurt in her mouth, before grimacing and tossing the whole thing in the garbage bin. Eating healthy sucked.

Antonio wordlessly offered her a couple of his chips as Lana appeared in the breakroom doorway.

"What kid?"

They showed her what they had gotten off of the phone, hovered over her shoulder as she worked to clean it up. Everyone else was out working on whatever case the commander had given them in Voight's absence. Erin hadn't even bothered to check.

There wasn't much Lana could do with the file, some of the data just wasn't recoverable, but she went at what was there.

No one noticed when Platt reached the top of the stairs. She spotted them huddled around Milani's desk and cleared her throat.

"Officer Dawson, Milani, a word?"

Voight had had her back more times than she could count. It might be easy for them, coming in here and seeing how he got things done, to doubt the man. But she wanted the record set straight. They had been here long enough to know Voight would do anything for his team. Crowley didn't seem to understand that. But Antonio should. And Lana would too if she stuck around instead of running back to her old partner.

"Can it wait?" Erin asked, "Lana's finishing up something for us."

Platt came over, wondering what was so important they thought they could ignore her. She scowled at the image half loaded on the screen.

"What are you interesting in him for?"

Antonio paused with a handful of chips. "You know him?"

Platt shrugged. "They just brought him through downstairs. He's a witness to the shooting."

"No," Lana interrupted, eyes on her screen as the image finally finishing loading, revealing the weapon clearly tucked into the suspect's belt. "He's the shooter."

* * *

"I don't have time for this," Crowley stated pointedly, facing down the four officers that had interrupted her on her way to questioning the witness.

"All due respect, ma'am," Platt spoke up, "You'll want to see this."

They laid it out. The photo of Marcus, armed. Images of him and Eric together in that same alley. Ralph hitting the ground before someone pulled the trigger on Eric.

"Eric was in that alley to score. His dealer realized he was a cop and shot him. Ralph was in the wrong place, wrong time." Antonio summed up what they had with an irritating amount of confidence.

"And Voight had nothing to do with it," Erin added, earning herself a disapproving glance.

Crowley folded her arms. She couldn't ignore evidence, and she hadn't gotten to where she was by being so blinded by an agenda she couldn't admit that she was wrong. If what they were saying was correct, she would get to the bottom of it.

She took the photos from Erin's hands. It looked like her interview just became an interrogation.

* * *

Jay let out a whistle as Erin filled him in, "You think she'll get a confession?"

Erin shrugged, "The commander is still interrogating him, but he's not talking. He's gotta be scared, he shot a cop."

"Yeah, but his record's clean." Attwater interjected, "Either he's new to the game or he's smarter than he looks." he glanced at Lana as she walked by. "You really think your boy Eric could have done all that?"

Lana pulled her hair out from under the collar of her jacket she had just slipped on. "I'm going to find out what exactly happened right now."

"Wait, hold up," Antonio hopped up from his seat, "You gonna question him, you should do it here." She paused long enough to look at him and wonder why. "Crowley isn't going to let this go easily. The more by the books we do it, the less she can dismiss it later."

Lana seemed to consider for a very long moment before she sighed. "In that case, one of you have to bring him in. I haven't been cleared for field work."

She wanted nothing more than to drag answers from Eric herself, but they needed this settled once and for all. Erin set down her pen.

"I'll go with Antonio. We'll bring him back and you can have a go at him then."

* * *

Eric opened the door with a bright enough smile.

"Why hello Erin. Antonio, right? Can I help you guys?" he shook the man's hand with a gaze that did a quick sizing up, and the last time they had hung out flashed in Antonio's mind. When Lana had snuggled up to make Eric jealous, and he settled his hands in his pockets with a self satisfied grin.

"Yeah, you can come down to the station and answer some questions for us."

"About the shooting? Well I've told the commander everything I remember. I'm happy to come down, but," he spread his hands before clasping them together, "I don't want to waste your time."

"Kinda like you're doing now?" Erin quipped.

Erin rolled his head with a long-suffering sigh. "Look, I'm not sure what Lani told you guys about me. We all know how she gets when she's in her moods." he laughed like he was expecting solidarity.

Antonio stepped into him, and Eric took a clumsy step backward.

"First of all, It's _Lana_. Calling her 'Lani' doesn't even make sense. Second of all, she hasn't been the one doing the talking. Our boy Marcus has had a lot to tell. About why you were really in that alley. Now let's go."

Erin paled a fraction beneath that perfect tan. "Let me just grab my coat."

* * *

"What are we doing here, Lana."

Eric sat across the metal table from her, gaze drifting to his reflection in the glass behind her.

"Determining just how much of your original statement was a lie." She laid the first paper in front of him, the official tox report from the hospital. "A copy has already been sent to your superiors."

"Lani..." he gripped the pages, eyes holding a poignant betrayal that she stared into without an ounce of remorse.

"You never got clean, did you?"

The paper fluttered down as he released it. "I tried to. I swear I did. And it worked, for awhile. But you don't know how stressful the job can be and I-"

Lana snorted. "Excuse me," she looked away to compose herself before looking back. "You do realize we have the same job."

"Well sure, but..." he trailed off, like whatever he wanted to say was obvious, and Lana's tongue slipped against the inside of her cheek to refrain from responding.

"You went into that alley to score. Then what happened."

Eric shifted. "Regardless of why you _think_ I was there, I already explained what happened. Voight's CI drew and fired at me. He told me that he was doing it for Voight. I don't pretend to understand _why_ Voight would want this to happen. You work with the man, you've seen how he behaves."

"Know what else I've seen?" Lana pulled the bagged cellphone from her pocket and dropped it on the table. "Ralph's home video." She smiled, "You've always wanted to be a star."

Eric rolled his eyes, but she didn't miss the way his bottom lip tucked into his teeth. He was nervous and trying desperately not to show it.

"I'm trying to help you, Eric."

He laughed, shaking his head, but Lana just watched him.

"I know you didn't mean for this." It was the age old story. Honestly she never thought it would happen to him. "It started simple. A pill or two there. Something you could control. It wasn't hurting anybody. Maybe it even made you better at your job. You could focus more. Relax on the off hours. It was helping you."

Eric's hands came to rest on the table, fingers nervously tapping together. "I didn't plan this, Lani." he dropped his hands into his lap, leaning forward. "I didn't intend for anyone to get hurt."

"Marcus was going to fire at you," she supplied, voice deceptively gentle, and some part of her truly sorry to see him like this now. This wasn't the man he ever wanted to be.

"I panicked. The kid, the CI was in the way and I must have hit him instead. I didn't mean to, it was self defense, Lani. You gotta believe me."

"I do, Eric." she nodded. "You didn't set out to hurt anyone. You were protecting yourself."

Relief washed over him, shown in the eyes she used to love to stare into, and Lana's forearms hit the table as she leaned in.

"Just like you were protecting yourself when you drug yourself over to Ralph and hid his phone. Like you were protecting yourself when you blamed Voight for all of this. It was always about doing what was best for you, and you didn't care who got hurt."

Eric's hands fisted in frustration. "Voight's a bad cop, Lani. I was doing you a favor! I heard they were looking in to him, and we both know he deserves to be behind bars. It just fell into my lap, if I said he was responsible the Commander could close her case and I wouldn't get charged. What did you expect me to do?"

Lana pushed back from the table slowly.

"Honestly, based on the man I once knew, I would have expected you to do the right thing. But now?" her scorn was mixed with something truly sad, "I wouldn't expect anything else out of you." she laughed once, darkly, "You know, I doubted the kind of cop I was because of you. And you were never worth that."

She left him, hunched in a cold metal chair, perfect posture forgotten as the weight of reality finally settled over him.

"You okay?" Antonio was waiting for her, and Lana shrugged.

"We got him. He confessed to the shooting and setting Voight up. We got enough for the commander to get something out of Marcus."

"Good, that's great." Antonio gave her a goofy high-five before checking his watch. "Look, shift's almost up, you wanna grab a drink? Celebrate?"

"Thanks, but no," Lana shook her head with a smile. It had been an excruciatingly long day and there was only one place she wanted to go.

She hit the locker room, stepping out of her clothes she had been in since yesterday morning, and rummaged through her gym bag. All she had was workout clothes, but they were clean and she wasn't complaining.

Voight didn't answer his cell, but she wasn't too bothered. He only used the thing when he had to for work and she hadn't heard from him all day.

She stepped out as a sky that had darkened without her notice opened up, and rain came pummeling down.

* * *

He wasn't expecting this. To have her show up here, drenched and shivering and he stepped aside without a word.

She peeled out of her jacket, bouncing in place to warm up until she noticed she was leaving a puddle in his entry way. Voight ducked into the hall closet for a towel and she took it.

"Thanks." She pressed the towel against her face, ran it over hair that grew more wild as she shook it dry. Her light grey tshirt was damp and taut against her skin, black sweatpants rolled at her hips like she had turned in for the night and left without bothering to change.

The rain had pulled out the fragrance of her hair and it teased against him as she moved. Voight flexed his fingers and folded his arms behind his back.

"What's up, Milani?"

"One second," she chirped, looking up at him as she flipped her hair over her head and rubbed the towel against it. "There," she straightened, dark hair bouncing back into place, and Voight swallowed. She frowned at the puddle on the floor. "I'll clean that up."

Voight reached for the dampened towel. "Don't worry about it."

She hung on to the towel as he went to take it, held his gaze with concern.

"What's wrong with you?"

Voight barked out a laugh. He didn't know what was going on, why excited energy was pouring off of her in waves.

"Nothing." He added at her pointed look, and Lana sighed, releasing the towel.

Voight moved into the kitchen, laid it over the sink.

"Why are you here, Milani?" he faced her, back against the counter. Not trusting himself to be near without doing something stupid.

All morning he had been stuck on replay, waking up and she just wasn't there. After him asking her to stay. After her telling him she wanted to be there, she had left without a word like he was nothing but a one night stand.

She stepped into the kitchen, hesitant, curious. looking around. She had never actually seen it before.

He realized she had taken her shoes off, bare feet padding closer on the hardwood floor and there was something so frustratingly domestic about it that felt entirely too right.

She stopped, pressing her weight onto her toes in a bit of uncertainty.

"Well, I have news."

* * *

He made her tea. Before she had fully even grasped the fact that he _owned_ a tea kettle, she was seated at his kitchen table, a steaming mug in front of her with him, waiting and a little tense in the seat across from her.

He looked so at home here.

Which was a completely stupid thought because he was in his _home_ , but his long sleeved white tshirt and grey flannels made him look like he belonged in front of a fireplace pictured in Homes and Garden's magazine. She had come in to his space, personal and relaxed and it settled around her. Calming.

She wanted that, to work for a team that had that type of leadership. To have that kind of support behind her. It was hard won, hard to define, but even if she was stuck behind a desk here, having Voight's support made her a better officer. Made her proud of the work she was a part of. She had never wanted to come here, never wanted to leave Miami or what she had there. But now. Now she didn't know how she had ever considered going back. Giving this up. Giving _him_ up.

"It's about Eric. He was lying."

Voight waited a few seconds before shrugging, "Yeah." He already knew that, and Lana rolled her eyes.

"No, I'm saying now we can _prove_ it. You're not a suspect anymore."

Voight's lips pursed as he nodded a few times. "Good."

Lana gave a half laugh, "I sort of figured you'd be happier about that."

He shrugged. "I am," his fingers tapped the table twice like he was holding back what he really wanted to say.

"Seriously, what's up."

He pressed back in his seat, arms across his chest like a wall she wasn't welcome to cross. "You could have just called."

Lana took a second. "You didn't answer your phone."

He didn't really have anything to say to that.

Two months ago he would have gladly shown up at her door, drowned the day in Jack and the taste of her lips. Let himself believe that that was all this was, a way to end the day. She had never acted like they were anything more.

Until yesterday. When she had promised with every part of her that she was here to stay just for him to wake up to her gone.

"Well. Thank you for the report." He got up, moved to the sink to pour out his cup like she wasn't even there and Lana sputtered.

"What, that, that's it?"

"What else do you want there to be." Voight shot back, eyes dark and flashing. Why did this keep happening to him? Why did he keep coming that much closer knowing she was just gonna pull away.

"How bout you tell me why you're acting like this!" She had come here telling him they had worked like crazy to get his name cleared and he was acting like he didn't care.

"Like what." Hard and unmoving.

Lana just looked at him. "Like you don't want me here."

He turned away from her, rested the heel of his hands on the edge of the counter and leaned over them.

"What time did you leave."

The quiet question filled the kitchen.

"What do you mean?"

"Last night," he faced her, back against that counter and arms back over his chest. "What time did you leave?"

Lana pushed her mug away from the edge of the table, and stood up. That's what was bothering him?

"I didn't, Hank. I got a call this morning on a lead in your case, and I didn't want to wake you." She didn't think he would care. Never realized how something as simple as that actually meant anything to him. She had learned so much about the man he was and there was still so much she didn't know.

His shoulder dropped and he looked away, uncomfortable. "I thought," He started, and Lana came to a stop in front of him.

"You thought I walked away again."

He blew out an exhale, not quite looking at her. "Yeah, I guess."

Her hands met his forearms, tugging them gently open, giving her room to slip closer to him. "Well, you were wrong."

He coughed out a laugh, looking down at her with a begrudging smile. "Something tells me you've been wanting to tell me that for a while."

"Oh that's not the last time you're going to be hearing that from me."

* * *

She was trembling, clinging to him like to release him was to lose him. Night had fallen as the storm played on and he had pulled her to bed under the sound of the rain.

He tilted her chin up and captured her lips. His kiss stayed, connecting, as her body built and fell beneath him, the sound of his name a whisper in the dark.

She fell asleep against him. Felt his fingers threading through her hair. Slow and simple and it made her smile. Made his pulse that much stronger in his veins.

She was staying. Soft and here and he lay his forehead against hers.

* * *

She awoke to the sound of her alarm. It had been so long since she had actually slept through to it going off that she almost didn't recognize it. Her hand fumbled for her phone, and found Voight's searching one. He threaded his fingers through hers.

"Alarm," Lana muttered in protest, trying to shut it off as he tugged her to him.

"It can wait." he growled, voice deep with sleep, and Lana laughed.

"It'll stop eventually."


	22. Bigger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I know this one's short. I came down with something this week and didn't get a lot of writing time. Hopefully I'll have a full one for you next time!

* * *

"I may have been wrong about this one, Sergeant," Commander Crowley slid his badge across her desk towards where Voight stood, expressionless but it still felt smug, "But I'm not wrong about you."

Voight plucked the badge from the desk, clipped it next to his returned firearm on his belt.

"Anything else, Commander?" There was the barest of smiles on his lips, and Crowley's shoulders rolled back in mute frustration. "Good, cause I got work to do."

He crossed through the lobby, nodded to Platt who had just shooed away a couple of officers. She spared him a smile that bordered on the edge of self-satisfied before calling the uniforms back. She handed them the keys to a new cop car they had requested. She was feeling generous.

Voight took the stairs up to Intelligence. Stepped onto the floor of his unit. Ruzek was kicked back in his chair, tossing a wad of paper in the air, acting as a sounding board as Attwater rattled off theories on their latest case. Ruzek said something stupid and Attwater snatched the paper ball from mid air.

"You could try not being useless," he muttered, catching sight of Voight a moment later. "Yo, welcome back, boss."

Erin looked up, hopping off of where she was perched on Jay's desk. "Hey, guess Crowley came to her senses, huh," she gave him a quick hug, "had me worried there for a second."

"Nah," Voight shook his head, smile holding a fondness he didn't often let in his workplace, "I knew you'd sort it out for me, kid."

She grinned, just cheeky enough as Antonio walked out of the breakroom.

"Hey, you're back," he looked more pleased than Voight had expected until he held out his hand, palm up, to Jay. "Pay up."

Jay's eyes widened with a good bit of horror before cussing Antonio out with a glance, as Voight settled his arms over his chest, just watching.

"I thought it would take Crowley longer, is all," he muttered, fishing around in his wallet and dropping a bill into Anotnio's palm. "Glad you're back."

"Uh-uh." Voight's face was firm, lip barely turned up at the corner, and Olinski pushed up from his seat.

"Shouldn't bet against the boss, kid," he handed Voight a ready cup of coffee, "not when he can see anyway."

Voight chuckled, tipping the coffee to Olinsky in a quick thanks. "So," he surveyed the room, gaze fixing on where Lana stepped into view from the break room, leaning against the door frame with a warm look in her eye. "What do we got?"

Ruzek and Attwater ran him through what they working on for the commander, a series of carjackings with ties to a drug ring, and Voight shrugged.

"Alright, Erin, Jay, you work that with them. Rest of you," he glanced Olinsky's way, and Olinsky nodded.

"Kid's case, already on it." he waved Lana over to what he had been working on, as Jay and Erin focused on Attwater's desk. Voight walked through the sounds of shuffling papers and overlapping voices. It was the kind of energy this place held that filled the good moments here. Active but not desperate. Solid work that wasn't pressed up a ticking clock with someone's life on the line. They had seen too many of those.

Right here, it was simple police work. Some kids came up quick into a uniform and liked to talk about the action, the need to take someone down, hard and fast. Ruzek had a streak of that in him. But the satisfaction of a life saved, a bad man stopped on the streets of his city, they were the high moments that wouldn't survive without this. Without the diligent focus of his people, his team. What needed doing, they'd get it done, and Voight dropped into his chair with an absent smile, the kind barely there that you weren't even aware of. The kind that felt a little something like peace.

* * *

"Think we got something," Olinsky stuck his head into Voight's office, "possible lead on a location for Ringman. We're headed out."

Voight dropped the receiver in the cradle from a call that had just ended, and waved Olinski out the door. "You go. Milani stays."

"Fine, I'm taking Erin." Olinski didn't even pause. He didn't much care that Milani wasn't supposed to be in the field but if Voight wasn't sending her, Olinski wasn't taking her. Lana texted him the address and Olinsky grabbed Erin, headed out with a small wave.

Voight didn't get much space before Antonio knocked. "Hey, Ruzek and Jay are getting a warrant for our main suspect. You need any help with yours?"

Voight shook his head, "Quicker you guys close yours, sooner we can have all hands on this one."

Antonio gave half a shrug, but Voight stopped him before he stepped out.

"Erin mentioned the help you were, in sorting out my case." He leaned back, thumbs tapping together, "thanks, I appreciate it."

Antonio huffed a chuckle, his hands slipping in his pockets. "Glad to help," He hesitated. "What's gonna happen with Eric?"

Voight frowned, "The shooting might come up looking like self defense. He's facing possession and interfering with an investigation. First offense and all, they might not stick, but either way his career is over."

"Yeah, not too broken up about that," Antonio added. "Probably not easy on Lana, though, seeing him go down like that."

Voight shrugged, "He fell a long way from the officer he used to be. It caught up with him. She's better off knowing."

Antonio's eyes turned calculating. Voight seemed awfully nonchalant considering Eric was now out of the picture and Lana was sticking around. It was unsettling, facing just how well this guy could hide what he must be thinking. He might actually have a chance.

Although Lana wanting to give him one? That was another matter entirely.

Their gazes held, a challenge like Voight knew full well the last conversation they had had in this office was on the forefront of Anotnio's mind, and he was daring him to say something.

"Well. Gonna get back to it." His fingers thrummed on the door jam, and Voight smirked. Enough to make Antonio very uncomfortable.

"You do that."

* * *

Olinsky's desk phone rang in the near empty office, Antonio looking up from his own phone call long enough to see Lana move to answer it.

She tugged a notepad out from under a stack of papers and took a message, bumping into a box under Olinski's chair. She hung up the phone, and pulled out the box, lips pursing at the label. It was some of the case files from a city over, and she popped the lid. It didn't take her long to figure out why Olinsky hadn't brought them over with the rest before. All of these cases were over 20 years old. It must have gotten sent over by accident. She opened another file, gaze slipping over the photo of a little boy, not more than five. Taken from a supermarket, no leads, no motive, just gone. Nothing left but a picture, a written description. Brown hair. Green eyes. 'S' shaped birthmark on the right arm. A child's life reduced to basic facts and one big mystery.

She snapped the folder closed. Laid it back in the box with the feeling like putting it there meant letting the crime stay unanswered. How many of the files they had scoured through looking to some connection to their own case would end up in a box like this, twenty years from now in the corner of some office?

Voight pulled his door open, slowing when he spotted Lana, absorbed in whatever she held. It took her a moment notice him ans her gaze came up, thoughts she had been lost in taking a second to clear.

"Got something?"

"It's nothing," the lid dropped back on the box as she shook her shoulders out.

His lips quirked, "Let me know when Olinsky's back."

The call came in not ten minutes later. "We got him. Interrogation room 2."

* * *

Lana stood on the other side of the glass, watching Voight drop into the chair across from Marvin Ringman.

He wasn't what she was expecting. Tall, but thin, in the pale way. He kept shifting, eyes not lasting on his own reflection before darting away. He didn't just look guilty, he looked frightened.

"Look, I can't be here. if, if they-" he cut off, shuffling back in his chair, the legs scraping on the ground.

Voight didn't look all that concerned. "Who's they."

Martin's fingers rung together, like he was trying to erase the sweat between his them.

"Oh, this'll be easy." Lana spared Antonio a look at his comment where he stood beside her, but didn't respond.

"Why, why am I here. You're supposed to tell me that. I got rights."

Voight slipped a photo onto the table. A little girl in her school uniform, beaming at the camera.

"Witness saw you with her. When she was taken."

They waited for the denial. It was well known that case had been closed, a man sentenced for the kidnapping of that little girl.

A tear fell from Martin's eyes.

"Yeah. Yeah, I had her, okay? But I couldn't do it. I put her in that school, where they'd find her okay? I couldn't, I just couldn't alright."

His hands clenched, fists slipping across the surface of the table as the edge caught his sleeve, tugged it up in the harsh room light.

"What this supposed to be," Antonio quipped "Child snatcher with a conscience?"

"No," Her hand met his arm, absently pushing him back alittle as she stepped towards the glass, like space would help her see better. Help her make of the splash of red along his forearm, curling in an out like a lengthy 'S.' "No, I think it's bigger than that."

His hair was dark with an unwashed sheen, but she could see it, the brown peeking through that wanted to curl. Green eyes bright with tears that quivered. Maybe it was fear. Maybe in some tainted way it was relief.

"Much bigger."


End file.
